Wisteria is my Wine

Planted piano keys - trees -
are parted like ocean waters when
Lady Sun bashfully spies from her corner.

She undresses slowly, innocently
from polyester work garb to a
hazy sunflower ball gown.

She is radiant,
passionately swaying.

Her balm spills to awaken kindred earth's
rapture.

Wisteria is my wine.

Drunk with beauty,
I am pupil of whimsical Sun.

She flushes pink from her secret lover's
soft kisses and carassing voice.

Rose, she accedes him,
and reclines
as she lays until waking.