Momentous moment, when a great beauty
dons her bridal veil, stretches and blushes
in anticipation of the sensory feast ahead
When birds are restlessly atwitter, fanning
rumors of romance, budding in plain view
and making feverish voyeurs of all in sight
Having been buried alive in heavy virginal robes
time now, to try some color and bare some skin —
shy and bold, like all awakenings, and trembling
Pink, the color of blossoming, tender flames
cherry is the heady, sweetness of the scent
it’s a wonder, really, that we all don’t blush.
©Yahia Lababidi,
author of Revolutions of the Heart (2020)