Slowly,
They wait.
For they sense
That, an an imminence,
Her bud will burst bright.

In
My thoughts
And my dreams,
It's her I see,
But not like the others.

A
Public spectacle
She is not,
Though deemed to be.
Her blossoming is for me.

They
Can wait,
But they'll find
That their cherished lady
Will run into my arms.