“The Beauty in a Rose” by Jöseph Lee Foster-Shumpert-Lear, 1997
Published 17 March 2004 :: Poetry
Read more by Jöseph Lee Foster-Shumpert-Lear
“The Beauty in a Rose”
“The Beauty in a Rose”
In dream I see her near to me
My hand I slide ever so softly
Down the side of her face
By the light of yonder moon
In dream I see her eyes
And their glow
And this I take in as her lips
I take next to my own
And this I take in
As we embrace in front of the fire
In dream I see her
Upon the fur of a bear skin rug
The sweat on her skin shining
As my heart pounds faster
And faster
In dream
Or within my mind
I see my most valuable treasure
Clad in a dreamy mist
Of my desire for her
And my lust
And yet I cannot make her see it
And yet I feel so helpless
Before the fire
I now sit
Listening to the shower
Of tears falling from the heavenly sky
And in this I find her image
Teasing me from the corner of this cabin
Lain in forest dark
I cast a spell from a book lain old
To disperse my emotions
To disperse my lust
And find her still upon me
Stabbing my heart
With an arrow drawn heart of her own
Until one heart lays
Where once I saw two
What is this power
Held over mine soul
Which causes my every thought
My every fiber
To contain her essence
In dream I lay
Not yet taken
But so happily ready
And wanting nothing more
Then to feel her touch
To smell the scent of the breeze
Which carries her essence to me
Leaving me with this question
Can I live without her
Can I survive without seeing her
In my life day after day
And . . .
Does she feel the same
In dream I sit right
A part of me in the myst of my desire
And the lust for her
She brings to me every time we talk . . .
In my dreams
There is no rug
There is no fire
No cabin upon a mountaintop
Only her body
Lain upon my bed
Clad in nothing more
Then desire
Her breast so round and firm
Her hair covered nether region
So inviting
So desirable
And yet when I reach out to touch her
The image fades
And again I'm left alone
From whence I came
I turn to go
Only to find a silken figure
Floating on air
And it is this
That I find
And it is this
I take . . .
Upon all my dreams
Nothing came true
For the reality of it
Far exceeds my every dream
For without the rug
Or the fire
I could feel her breath upon my neck
I could feel the bliss and rapture
Of being inside her
And though she'll never believe it
I still see her as
The beauty brought forth
By a rose
