The scent of roses fills the air.
Intoxicating incense of promise and passion.
Rising, falling, like anxious breathing of a
frightened fawn, startled from dawn grazing.
Dark, deep red their color against blue sky,
shrouded in white lace baby-breath and cloud.
Each blossom soft, tender as a caress
along your smooth inner thigh.
With each breath, in gentle unceasing
anticipation, your nipples rise and fall,
like morning sun peeking over gilded fields.
Lover’s eyes linger, drinking deep water
from the wellspring of sensuality as
the scent of roses fills the air.