THE PUZZLE

She decorates my shirt with spice
Whose scent I can't identify,
A sprig of mauve that draws my eye
Away from where her hands entice
A thought into the sun - advice
From Cupid, flittering slowly by
(Half-hidden behind a butterfly,
And winking at me once or twice):

"Distract the senses from themselves
Until their striving strikes the mind,
A puzzle of perfume and light,

And the grey abacus there of cells,
Losing logic, wakes to find
Acute distinctions of delight."

          copyright 1984, James B. Chevallier