Flower in the book

He found her in a muddy pond
she stood there, a lotus, blooming
waiting for love to embark upon her
perhaps years, perhaps centuries
perhaps from big-bang onwards
You moxie little gorgeous floweret, he mewled
Stood here waiting for you, she whispered
Her zaftig face 
was in his palms
plump bosom lounging 
on his bony hairy chest
her feet on his feet
her lips slightly apart
waiting to be captivated
He heaved her up
dried her wet face
petal by petal
droplet by droplet
and read her poems
cooked her maggie
brewed mountain tea
made passionate love
kissed her teeth and toes
and put her to re-quiescence
holding on to her waist girdle
as though she would melt away
He placed her in his book
the book of his poems he kept
She slept for a life time there
sometimes in his soft, but firm palms
other times  on that page
which had his first poem
about his mother his beloved
in his precious book
She slept hoping to never to wake up

2 thoughts on “Flower in the book

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