Gift of a Spinstress

Her feet caught in a dripping net of
sunbeams, she flashes a crowning smile
as tresses spill with golden straws
and blossoms are her hair bows.

Upon my spindle of daydreams
with distaff in hand, I spin her
stray straws into a florid thread
and with nimble fingers gather up
each fallen blossom, embroidering
them onto the bodice of her sundress.

Who can rival my girl's hues with
her eyes rich as night stars?
the curving lips subtle as mist?
a swaying body laved in pools of nectar?

Her soft bosom sweeps playfully
across my cheek where she leaves
the tiniest print of kisses with the
laughter of Summer's perfuming.

"Take flight, friendly song-bird!
Soar straightway to the nest of
Garden's safest heartstrings
for you, bright Sunflower,
are the gift of a spinstress--
the handiwork of my own heart."