Pure white flowers can be beautiful,
But, for love, give me the deepest red,
Like the blood of the beating heart which,
Hot beneath the skin with arousal,
Betrays the inner passions with
The blush of its pounding passing,
Opening of lips sudden breath as
Its heat spreads and fills the mind
The belly, the centers of desire,
Making the whole body glow and
Gasp at its heat and pressure.
Donovan Baldwin