Blossoms open wide.
Inviting gentle finger tips,
To caress it's side.
Alluring labyrinth of virtue,
Majestically serene.
Moistened by the morning dew,
Enticingly pristine.
Perched about a firm, hard stem
Thrusting toward the sky.
Wanting just to fondle them,
Lusting just to try.
Folds of crimson zuzu pedals,
Supple drips when wet.
Pedicled pricks that settle,
The limper that they get.
Delicately vulnerable,
Delectably well formed
Seductively sensual,
Protected by its thorns.
No greater beauty hath God made,
No lesser flower grows.
No creator could dissuade,
The power of a rose.
Copyright © September 2009
Kevin Mooney
kmm001
093009
