Thursday Sonnet: Flourish

The first time that we met your eyes were lined
With streaks from lights that now have turned to ash.
It still was winter then; the season sighed
In mists on the concrete, you were a slash
Of springtime underneath the pearly skies.
Next week I saw you, and you were as white
As lilies; once again behind your eyes
I saw the coming season drawn in gentle light.
I marked since then that everywhere you went
You gave off flowers like a brush of spring;
Petals dropped along the road, a scent
Of tulips, daisies, orchids – hues that sing.
And I live off, since then, my modest theft,
Picking up the roses that you left.