A calm wind rises up,
carrying rose petals in a lazy spiral,
touching you in places
too intimate for words to picture.

Are my thoughts that wind?
and fond memories the roses
that shed petals in long sighs
of remembrance, adoration and longing?

The image is frail glass, blown gossamer
over a canvas of gentle nature;
let no words intrude – lest the silence break
and shatter the peace in a weeping of broken glass.