The pearl of flowers
Concentric rings of petals
That turn titian red.
An oyster of a bud that opens
To beautify a little plot of land.
Lovers’ modus operandi,
Florists’ livelihood
Love’s trail maker,
Perennially embellishing
The little rooms of heart
And bed, to ferry love across
From strips of fiber to strands of coir,
Kindling bed chemistries,
Storming skin tapestries,
Fusing lip, tongue and plumbing
To a little portmanteau
Of hyphened flesh.
