Apple mint

Sunlight dapples the apple-mint. She loves
that scent flirting with her senses. She tends
her garden, with a care that sometimes shoves
away all sexual pleasure: she commends
such appetites, but quells them deep inside
for fear they might erupt and, thus, expose
her to such mercies as her woes betide;
And, yet, they're always with her, as she goes
about her planted plot, loving the pace
at which the flowers grow, as do desires,
which she can contemplate - a smile in place.
And no one has a hint of all those fires
that burn within, for she just shares the hint
of sunlight playing on her apple-mint.