Light Purple Is Jasmine Poem by James McLain

You come slowly, in thee.
My search it is blind, covered vain.
Just within reach the unused lip.
Bashfulness, stung like the bee.
Murmurous of fainting it slurps.
My this light purple is jasmine.
Reaching into the center of that flower.
One circles each is striped is coming lower, slowly.
The buzz that it is the vibration there it is.
You call her out of the room.
Fruity it counts that fruit juice, - it gets off.
It is lost with the fragrance oil!