by Jan Train

Tall sunflowers gawp over the garden fence,
frank in their snooping.
Brazen hussies with brassy locks,
confident members of the uber-mensch'
give come-on looks to the lowly stocks
cowering in the borders,
whose pursed lips and downcast gaze
like nuns in holy orders
disapprove of such wanton ways.
But when the moon ascends the sky
the stocks spread their night-scent,
open wide their flowered skirts,
no longer the innocent,
blow kisses at their slumbering rivals.
their turn to act outrageous flirts;
the star-struck jezebels.

© Jan Train

Jan Train is a member of Lanark Writers' Circle