DRAGON'S BLOOD AND ROSES
Within a bouquet upon the center table
Slightly away from the other flowers
One will find such perfection that if comparing it they are unable
A simple rose bud which does not hide nor does not tower
It’s virgin petals hasn’t even begun to unfold
It is a precious young excellence who’s touch is the softest silk
Beauty... yet beauty of which in every lyric and verse has been untold
Its color of white can be paralleled only to that of milk
Upon that same table one will also glimpse
Several pebbles sprawled atop a burning sphere
From it a crimson smoke of spirals and wisps
The resin melts and bubbles into blood it would appear
It’s entrancing scent is exhilarating
Sizzling and dancing into sudden spice
To its allurement one is lost for it is thusly captivating
Indulging in its luster considering a little will not suffice
It is just now one observes as the smoke assembles with the rose
We do not see the whirls assailing the innocence of the bud
We follow the gentility addressing the invasion with yearning response
It’s petals opening and accepting to the reddening smoke and keeping hold
Soon the petals are enshrouded with red powder
It has opened entirely and granted the spice to penetrate into its core
Reminding one that it is permitted to be similar this flower
To allow a little spice to enter into your center and to explore
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