An early mist rising from the dark and fertile earth
wakes a living flower from cold sleep with foggy breath
as a gentle wind displays a light that with soft caresses births
verdant, fragrant pleasures in a garden of love's gifts.A rising joy, in a dance of delight, unfolds the flowers faces
as they turn their delicate eyes toward us in wonder that gaily blesses
our willing love, awakening needs, which beauty satisfies
like mists of dew that hang like jewels on softly thirsting light.The touch of a gentle sun emerging, quiet, without show of power
imparts a subtler, vibrant strength within the mist and flower.
Though soon its reddened hand may climb and ascend like drying fire,
the moment now, of love we share, will never lose its wonderfor romance that rejoices to delight like freshly falling dew
distills from its sweetness each morning fragile joys anew.
