She softly displays,
A shapely chalice of,
Virtuous petals.
Faint freckling,
A bashful exposé,
Yet offering to be,
Rosa-choque.
Content within,
Blazing rays.
“Scoot over!”
“Naw, I like this spot.”
“You’re squashing me…”
“Should be getting used to me.”
“I shan’t. ”
“…so you like this place?”
“It’s the best.”
“Better without me?”
“No.”
“I can stay?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You’re warm.”
“Thanks to you…”