The Wind

Wild is the heart 
Of a flower being kissed 
By the summer wind.
The mistresses coyly tease,
Yet shy and wait again.
Their dancing forms given invitation.
They long to follow the floating air.
The wind is on his way
To other fields of flowers.
No time to linger
On one sweet mouth,
When a gallant wind might touch
The petals of every virgin flower.

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