by Chelsea Barnwell
In quiet passion, he fell to one knee,
Gentle and reverent in his intent.
His suit was not spared a taste of the soil.
His very body for her would be bent.
Truly she was beautiful and worthy.
Down he bowed till his face was next to her,
She was the very first of spring’s bouquet.
He breathed deeply of her sweet, fresh perfume.
He smiled, and rose, and went on his way,
Unashamed to bow to the good and pure.
A poem inspired by a true gentleman