It is tawny and it is golden
It is brightest in the softest of lights
It holds sultan’s gossamer drapes in angst
And makes fools of loomed silk sleeves
Sitting in regality
Pleated beneath Corna Austalis
Roaring with each bend of her neck
And whispering perfect enticements in gestures of boredom
The perfume sails like jasmine
And wafts carefully, knowingly to me
Causing a stutter, and a stare, and a soft
Long forgotten desire
And I watch her sleep
In summer skies, as searing days blend to temperate nights
For a dreamy moment I reach out and dare to touch
Coma Berenices
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