to grow in with your beard.
Stroking your hair, I smile,
as my orchids bloom, together
with daisies budding at your lips
as my kisses hit quick as raindrops first,
then slow to grow deeper than roots.
Slowly, slowly, though your hips
start shifting, irrepressible as
spring bursting from the ground,
I drift down your neck and arm and wrist
caressing last where the first violet has
taken root. Whilst purple ripples in my wake
I kiss you everywhere left unkissed
above your heart, below your chest
and by then it’s no surprise I make
bright buttercups open, then between your legs: a single rose.
For to me you are as vital, as vibrant,
as the brightest garden, and so, with every kiss and touch
my love grows, and grows, and grows.
(c) Copyright 2016 Kathryn Keane
Kathryn Keane is an Irish student of English, history and adulthood. Her writing has previously appeared in ‘Face Up Magazine’, ‘Bitterzoet Magazine’ and the ‘Stanzas: An Evening of Words’ chapbook and has been shortlisted in the 2015 ‘Write Here, Write Now’ competition.
You can find Kathryn on twitter: @keaneblade