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Flushéd Beauty
Blows merry Zephyr, his perfervid winds,
Awakes Spring’s ruddy charms to his alarms,
Comes budding crimson as Winter rescinds,
To bloody wan fields with their thorny arms.
My body swells as thine sleepy head dwells,
Long I await to see thine ripened heart,
Its waters to quell, this infernal Hell,
That quarters my enflamed spirit apart.
Ai me! Thine slow reveal tortures me still,
’Neath scarlet flounces, thine pleasures concealed,
No doubt, as engorged as my virile will,
Yet, behind veiled curtains remain them sealed.
Withdraw what blushéd duty bids ye hide,
Permit flushéd beauty to creep inside!
-Q-
@WindsPoetic