I’d bet you’re beautiful among the flowers.

Your lips dancing smiles to the peonies and butterflies

as you touch the garden

like a bee fluttering petals on its way to honey.

I’d hide amid the sunflowers

per chance that your hand

pause at my neck.

I’d bet you’re beautiful looking up at the moon.

A cool yellow sphere reflected in your warm brown eyes

then fractured by tears of wonder

to fall and scatter like pearls off their string.

I’d be gripped by Aphrodite

and want to shine like Luna

in and out of you.

I’d bet you’re beautiful lying hilly in my bed.

Innocent, fleshy, radiant.

I’d touch you slowly.

And if your hand rushes to your face in shy astonishment

a poem would form from your gestures

for my heart to clutch over and over again.

I’d bet.

©

jeannie dugan sanders