Elusive As A Rainbow

I am fascinated by her pose for a picture. As she picks red corn poppies All the while dressed in pristine white A contrast between day and night An indefinable rarity, elusive as a rainbow I want to encase her in my palms. Hold her in my yearning arms. I want to taste and feel the fabric of her soul. I want to touch that crêpe starched white lining. Now wet with sticky warmed perspiration. She is a promiscuous dark-haired raven. Taunting my eyes to linger I am smitten by her completely, this belle of the ball. I want to take her firmly by the wrist. And feel her pulse beating erratically. As I pluck her up, I pray she doesn't resist. I want to gaze into her eyes and kiss her. With longings, I can't or won't disguise. What use are poppies picked for a vase? As we all know, by sunset, the end of the day These petals too are like an elusive rainbow. Stretching sadly further and further away. But like her picking red corn poppies, that won't last I want her all the more for that anyway.