As I Touch The Rose

As I touch the rose
and feel it's softness,
warm and glorious,
it's heady scent
swirls round my face,
intoxicatingly lurring me
to bury myself in it's petals.

Like Sirens
it's sweet perfume calls,
tugging my soul,
pulling,
pulling me
into the depths
of it's aromatic center,
there to lose all semblance
of free will.

As I touch the rose
and feel it's softness,
I know it's not the rose,
but thoughts of you,
that's so wonderfully
enraptured my heart,
stolen my reality,
and rushed me
to the brink of surrender.

w. james beard, jr.