Lotus Thoughts

And Love stood there, unflinching -
By the rickety door that night
When I - perfumed in your repose
Smiled, bathing in your light
She said you've bloomed into a Rose.

Just as the spiraling winds - and men- that
Slowed down, and some lost their way
Turning to behold the sight of you,
I recoiled, told Her a Rose, pretty as it may -
My lover is a Lotus, that is who.

Love gathered her silks, silently-
And looked at the moonlight stitch
A tapestry through the window on the wall.
Cleared her throat, "That simile, quite rich -
Do you know that roses are in my thrall?"

I looked at you once again, more sure
This time I did declare in a loud voice-
Have you seen my lover? Have you seen
The layers, the disenchantment, the purest choice?
And to call her a Rose, you're still keen?

Love sat this time, outside - not in-
On the floor, with her posture intact.
And in the moonlight, she shone
Isn't the Rose more disenchanted, in fact,
She asked, with the thorns, in a raspy tone.

Unable to have these little wins, unable to
Break your wall, I vowed not to speak
To Love at all. I turned my face around-
Love smiled again, this time almost meek,
"I concede," she said and frowned.

And from my reverie, I woke, fingers numb
And I saw you again, teaching me how
To make smoke rings, as I barely held
The cigarette, and your fragrance with a tinge -
Of nicotine, I found myself asking-
Am I that ethereal too?
Am I a lotus too?

And a tiny ounce of regret
Refused to evaporate.
You arose.