Pardon me, but the romance I’m seeing doesn’t
crash barricades - it has flair, & no denying that,
but where others pretentiously parade, this one
bears the gift of gardenias fragrantly, - awaking
in that embrace defeats the rest; extravaganza,
maybe, but there is no end of pleasure in scent
so subtly pervasive, it leaves sex to bell ringers
and wagers the least on who passes their test
So we’re abreast on a pathway to glory, amour
is all we need to keep this ship afloat at sea, &
the story grows with epithets blessed - there is
no need to improvise or reread The Joy of Sex
a thousand times to survive, when this reality’s
expressed completely by the joy in your eyes
© 8 August 2016, I. D. Carswell
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