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                                              Flowering

                       A fragile flower shy of burning sun
                        Lay dreaming deep as gentle moonlight kissed
                        A trembling bud with whisper touch of one
                        Caressing breath of dewy morning mist.
                        A stroke of hand cupped tenderly in care
                        Draws timid blush from petals damp with dew.
                        Sweet scent of musk wafts soft on misty air
                        From sleeping rose her petals hid from view.
                        So soft and gentle with her budding head
                        Above the dew-kissed, fertile earth she stands,
                        And drawing purpose from the course he led,
                        The flower blooms when touched by gentle hands.
                                No rose did ever half so sweetly bloom,
                                As when my flower brightened up my room.©
                                             R. A .C  &  Magvulpes 4-16-2000

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