I've never been oppressed by a rose

I have never been oppressed by a rose
nor feared its thorn...

In your garden my Beloved,
I am but a thought
returning,
a waft of pleasure in your embrace

if you
should fall for the third time,
let the violet crushed
speak no riddles
to a wayward sun,

place an armful of black-eyed susans
in abstraction,
circle its motion
but do not lament the lemon tree,
my Love--
fill the pond with summer lilies,
deep and yellow

bend the amethyst thistle with reverence,
my Darling,
break open the last sand dollar and touch
its inner layer with bowed head,
let your snowflake fractals
and underwater caverns
lap my sea,
place your sky
above me.