The bud feels a nip, tender,soft, by naughty mist's creeping fingers of desire, defying the diktat of the morning sun. The flower within folded under a cover bustling to come out, refuses to remain coy and inert. She is unabashedly eager for more intimate touches by the swirling playful mist that seems to have a hundred fingers. Each touch has made her bold, expectant, she blushes. Quickly awakened from slumber, she'll wait till evening light, fades in the garden, when her eager lover will again make waves, in the air, drawing forms with smoky vapor. Moving mist will tickle her till the morning light that has a keen eye on this child of rose bush in his care, drives the amorous mist afar.