the sweetest bud
fresh, untainted
before innocence and pleasure
become acquainted

as the masterful sun rises
it tickles, caresses, warms the core
beckoning naive petals
to yield, unfurl, as so many others before

bearing its rounded bosoms
to the open air
foolishly vulnerable
basking shamelessly without a care

offering up blushed, moist, silken lips
entrapped in dreamy bliss
lingering upon each ray's gentle kiss

and the sun likewise mesmerized,
never having touched upon a bloom so fair,
pours all his soul's warmth
into this love so rare

but, alas,

childlike dreams must vanish beyond the horizon
with the sun's seeming eternal light
and the bloom too early matured must awaken
to the realistic fall of somber night

and alone in the darkness,
to all things lost,
a bloom once supple, soft
succumbs to love's first frost

gleaming jewels upon frozen flesh
illumined by the soft glow of the moon
these, the gifts left behind
remnants of the foolish love forged too soon

in this bitter-sweet darkness
drowning in a sea of black sorrow
staying afloat upon glittering memories
and the hope of a new sun's warmth tomorrow

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