Beneath shadowed canopy
Breathing night air,
A sultry conversation.
My nature both honeyed and sour.
My hope locked inside,
For I know there is no pleasure
In grasping a rose bearing thorns.
You vow that beauty is made sweeter
by contrast.
I sigh at this,
My bittersweet comfort.
My feminine heart is still a-guard,
But you summon fair patience,
With your true kind eyes.
In our tender little bower,
Leaves whisper a cool green lullabye,
Caressed by a soft glowing moon.
Comments
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Thoroughly enjoyed this piece. Reminded me of some Victorian interlude at midnight knowingly risking a girlish heart for a handsome rogue.
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