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.