I kissed a rose today, mm.
The way it pressed against my lips left me blushing.
How it smoothed sailed away gave my a flutter.
The scent, my my, the scent.
The scent overdosed my senses, leaving me in a up on life.
What created the steam of your hold.
The texture to your touch.
Where did the grace of perfume ignite from.
The color to your living.
The emotion placed in creation set worlds of wonder.
Did you exist before hand was designed.
Or was it hand that gave birth to your now.?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem