Her golden hair in noon day’s light, aflame
burned an image in heart’s depths
even the fields of sun flowers seemed envious
as fence climbing roses reached up to see
beauty, that in beholding eye’s bias, florets

She waits there, in still-life discovery
a blossom undisturbed and fragrant
one can hear the buzz of desire stir
a hive of expectation and frenzied dancing
soon petals will open and pollen promenade


-cec