After the rain

After the rain last night, the soil is grey;  
But that is no excuse, this girl must crawl  
Across the beds; the seedlings on display  
Won't be the only ones to show their all:  
There is a rose that is no rose, it's furled  
For now, at least, within the underwear  
That fingers soon will tug, until they're curled  
Within the petals of that flower; I dare  
To flick the moisture on the seedlings round  
My twisting form; with skirt up round my waist,  
There is a chance that seedlings end up drowned;
And opportunity to feel disgrace  
Is warming both my cheeks: a blush is right  
When soil is grey and it has rained all night.