Roses
Like satin on the fingertips,
Wet with dew,
Like a lovers sweet sweat,
After you have coaxed
the last gasp
from their lips.
And when the petals of roses open,
they bursts apart like
a finely tuned instrument
persuaded into that sweet, high tune,
that only the most skilled
can accomplish.
And I wonder if
A violin
Feels the same rapture
I do
When the concerto vivace is finished,
And lies finished on the floor
****
NOTE: Thanks everyone for the reviews!
