Chrysanthemum

The light galloping past
Leaving dusk in its wake.
The gilted horizon
Spreads --
Its mikado-yellow wings
Past the white-smoke
Clouds --
We sat in the spring air.

We sat splayed upon
The old oak worn bench
The red
Chrysanthemum --
I placed upon your breast
Withers in the wind
Upon your smokey,
White skin.

The silence of
Summers silken tune
Glides past us, and
We intertwine our
Cloistered hands
Safeguarded from the
Rain.