Beneath the Bloom

Beneath the bloom,
under the floral flaunting,
lies beauty
sometimes even more
enchanting,
leaves that seem
to cradle so caringly
morning’s first glory,
golden beam
soaking into the essence
of the green,
entrancingly aglow,
as if it alone
could hold
the last drop of hope
protectively
to give back
when the rest gets depleted
unexpectedly,
and beneath
even that,
a mystical trail
made of lucent silk
glistening against
the imperceivable invisible,
transiently lit
in a revealing,
fleeting,
a sign of some kind
leading…

Beneath the bloom,
I become entranced; 
under the floral flaunting,
I still find
romance.