What colours do I clothe you in?
Pales of rose, sparkle of chartreuse,
fade in the iridescence that your skin
deflects; the pining glow of your blues,
cerulean dreams to weave on satin.
To dress my inamoratas it takes
the furious blush of each rainbow,
the barren winter trees, the lakes,
the brown iris of a bashful doe.
And pinks, that of passion partakes..