Where does this poem begin?
With a drop of lace, draped gracefully over a gallant wrist–
solicitious fingers
brushing an errant lock of golden curls over the delicate curve of an ear most tender pale.
.
And my mind swirls with such verse as would blush that lily petal red.
.
Then I–
clasping that wrist,
dancing my fingertips upon the stage of that palm,
my parted lips hovering ever nearer that sweet blossom as a bee in search of nectar
to alight on that velvet bloom in suspiration softly.
.
And this enough a catalyst it seems,
to metamorphose that lily into a rose.
The transmutation thus complete, so ends this poem.
No more metaphors required.

Nice work! The rhythm has this playful swing to it that makes me smile.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you! Hoping it would have a pleasing effect on someone!!!
LikeLiked by 1 person
That’s “poets,” not “pets,” sorry!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, I’m honored!
LikeLiked by 1 person
This is completely brilliant. I never subscribe to other pets, but I am subscribing to you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
AWWWW!!!!!!!!!!! That was my reaction to this THROUGHOUT!!! LOVED THIS SOO MUCHH!! And that drawing is SOO PRETTY!!! ❤
LikeLiked by 1 person
😊
LikeLiked by 1 person