National Poetry Month ~ Poem ~ #1 ~ a fevered rose

 

a fevered rose

by Valentine Bonnaire

a fevered rose was what you left

and as I wandered wondering

my dancing slippers all bereft

of strings, on moors,

wild ponderings

it was a poem writ on me

where each fine kiss descended

and in your arms the rose of me

dropped all its thorns, upended

the day fell gray after you’d gone

and I was left to wander

and as I thought about your arms

round me, my heart did ponder

and in the fog I made my way

across the dampened grass

for men that lead your heart astray

are temptations to a lass

“It was sublime,” I heard you call

then to your leave you took

I wandered round about my moor

and thought of only books

and if I chanced to write you down

because you were a knave

then know it was my heart got lost

and you should not have played

Romance is a fair thing, my dear

And after you, twas slayed

So many men upon the moor

would wish to be my slave

My silken roses did I hang

each love forever marked

And each romance I did proclaim

new stories in the dark

for I should need much more than you

and many loves anew

it was the sort of girl I was

in April’s cruelest dew

~

xxoo!