Sparks

The reading lamp makes bright sparks on blue glass
I feel  the beauty of this quiet day,
The  lavender is dull  and dry  in vase

So  for eight hours  the sun   sends  rays to us
But later it falls darkly  to dismay
Would I were a child that heedless plays

Much lavender is pressed to oil, alas
For fortune favours those who’re on the way
The  lavender seems dull  and dry  in vase

Do not call me narcissist for this
I love perfumed oils to charm display
The reading lamp  remember  this blue glass

Behind the ears and on the inner wrist
Perfume attracts men to be our mates
The  lavender seems dull, as if disgraced

Thanks to  those green  gods who  made our state
The trees bow down in worship and in praise.
For eight hours the sun enlightens, plays.
Would I were a child with heedless days