NOSEGAY

NOSEGAY

My memory weaves a nosegay of you,
emotions meshed, tendril tight,
sunlight circled.

I might make you violets
though you neither shrank nor hid.
Roses would not fit
since your colours never clamoured.
You were too lightly wicked for lilies
too fragile for foxgloves
and could weather the wilder winds
more strongly than poppy’s petals.

I could celebrate your subtle shapes
as esoteric ornamental orchids
or sing of the sense-abducting scent
of lavender and lilies-of-the-valley.
All true, all you … but that would leave wanting
the delicate dance of sweet-peas on the vine
and the sheer exuberance you shared
with pansies and harlequin flowers.

Moonlight haloed,
emotions meshed, tendril tight,
I thread a fragrant bouquet of you.