GREEN  WITH  ENVY

I entwined my hand with hers,
strolled among the blooming flowers.
We sat on the grass to see
if the flowers could give glee.

I looked at her eyes and left
the hues that the petals got,
lived in peace inside her eyes,
leaving those fields and their skies.

I pressed her hand for a kiss;
I smelt odour of great bliss.
I ignored the jasmine's smell,
and on her hand l would dwell.

Then the flowers got so piqued.
They began to wane and wilt.
I eavesdropped a bee that nagged,
"Beauty can't defeat withstand."

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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