Winter Rose

Upon the paling moonlit snow
Of her fresh skin two rosebuds grow
As to punctuate the poetry that lies below.
There soft with endless guile
Two pinker lips bestow a smile
And kissing there with tongue enswirl
Her winter gem, the perfect pearl
'Til her arches, writhes, and shudder foretells
That her desirous ambition gels
And toward a brink of ecstasy
To plunge into autonomy.
The gardener tends the winter roses
In intimate Kama Sutric poses,
Each for her oral delight
Each a Scherazadic night
A thousand and one, a thousand and two
The winter rose re-buds anew...