
When the flower blooms
hidden in the mist
like your love for him
not yet ever kissed,
it’s all a fantasy,
all a delusion
until
the mist disappears
and there you are
in your nakedness,
still un-kissed
but flowering
with no veil to hide
and he sees you bare,
and the mist was never
really there.
(Think i have been reading to many of Cohen's poems..lol)
© Stella Armour 2015