Noble and pure
as the grace of a young maid,
an ivory magnolia,
blushed in pink,
perfumes the balmy spring air
and beckons me
to enter her chamber
to drink in the heady fragrance
of golden champagne
for a sweet fortnight
A downpour
on a stormy night,
I lay awake alone,
listening to the rain
splattering the roof
and rattling the window,
and I wonder, wistfully,
how many petals
have fallen
overnight
