affection

Like a fine painting hanging on frequented stairs,

which rarely caught my full attention, (bent

as I was on other ends,) her chiselled features

create belated interest in my halted vision.

Imprisoned like a bulb in frozen earth, I'm giving

birth to living shoots, thrusting through

the crusted surface, responding to the fond warmth

and bonding of intent with fresh female company.

Stumped with minimal score as I may have been,

(green as I was in adopting the proper strokes

to play,) I'm on my way to the crease again,

plainly pleased at the prospect of a different innings.

Dispelling memories of frost and rain,

I'll frolic now I'm in the sun's domain.