ORCHID

Fabled flower of far off lands,
I know whose quill did on thy petal scratch a scribble,
And, on your three pages, did with signature encrypt,
All the wonders of the world, by rebus and by riddle.

Take me on a journey to thy heart,
Where moonbeams dance on miniscule mosaics of shimmering silk,
Amid shadows cast by bowing colonnades,
Embalmed with opiates of sweet pollonia milk,

Deep into the mottled maze,
Reflected in a small songbird’s eye,
Through the mirrored morning clouds,
On lazy forest rivers drifting by.

Settle me down to dream filled slumber,
Within the curling labellum of thy velvet bower,
Neath spangling seas of sliding stars,
Where tides stand motionless, and measureless, is the hour.

Absorb me as you would a dewdrop,
Into your texture and your vibrant hues,
Reveal to me your very essence,
Where mystery and memory fuse.

Lure me into the lace like labyrinth,
Where many coloured paths do cross,
And your ancient secret lies unseen,
Behind flimsy veils of jade green moss.

Temptress of the tropics, unfold to me
That garden through and beyond the steamy dew,
The mirage that eye and dream have never seen,
Yet, once was home to you.

Until the shades of night first fell,
When doubt was born, and all were doomed to leave,
Then were you stolen away from Eden,
A memento of lost paradise, clasped gently to the breast of Eve.

JOHN ARMSTRONG

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