Jasmine

Mother always protected
Poor Jasmine and her locks
As a child, easy to contain
With books and dolls and pretty frocks.
As a teenager, Jasmine was vain
Always in front of the mirror,
Brush in hand,
Taking care of those beautiful locks.

One day, looking past the crowd,
Jasmine spies enigmatic dark eyes
Hiding under an even darker shroud.
Using her spies,
She learns of his name
Intrigue turns into crush
Learning he was just as vain.

Passing notes back and forth,
Love blossoms for the two youth.
He attempts to court,
knocking at her door.

Mother answers and slams it shut,
not wanting to believe her beloved was grown.
Poor Jasmine is cut
from ever knowing if her love could be sewn.

Jasmine’s heart hardens,
she turns emboldens.

As the night flower blooms,
the air heady with romance,
the dark haired beauty walks out of her room,
forgetting to turn off the lamp
nor saying goodbye to Mother or me.

It’s said that on certain summer nights,
When the flowers bloom
You’ll be greeted by such a site
Of a girl with long black hair
And slender white limbs
So pretty and fair,
Lingering among the flowers,
A sad smile on her face.

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