Widow's Sex

A Poem by Amber Childers

She fell to her knees with a little smile on her face. She felt the dew drops of the grass soak through her jeans and a chill go up her legs. A joyful kinda knot like the butterflies formed in her gut when she spotted the rose. The feeling went further up and she plucked the flower breathless. Then came the head rush which made staring at the rose like imprinting it in between her eyes and pedals edging out like sunglasses as the sun hid behind a tree."You are still my luxury," she whispers and tucks the rose into her hair.