The Orange Grove - Sonnet Twelve

With sunlit sound of wind caressing trees,
Of scents that speak of ladies after noon,
And captured morning's drawn silk balconies,
That vanquish night, and lovers' hearts attune.

I breathe her in as orange skins' graceful part,
Her naked grace in supple curves' retrieve,
I sense her flesh in segmentation’s
art,
Her naked taste in every part's conceive.

How far it seems from youthful caliban,
When easy words could willing mind's resist
Breakdown in orange groves heady perfumed span,
To take in sun burned driving want’s persist.

This orange flow’r Spring my want of her sustains.
Yet only scent and memory remains.