The Blushes

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                        The Blushes

The blush are plenty, many pictures paint,

Joyful glow of love, or of affectation feint, 

The passions’ stir, unveiled in the rosy flare,

Writ unseen on loving visage, ‘tis that glare.

 

The tongue of nature, concealed in cheeks,

Decked with ruby lips and nectar, love seeks,

Passions’ violent flow, ‘twixt the hearts two,

A voyage in the void, the bliss and later rue.

 

Blush hath faces strange, of love and shame,

Of deceit and vanity, raving in mortal frame,

Blush for a conceited sigh, and one for guilt,

One doused in tears, another working in gilt.

 

‘Tis a mystery, the skein of raveled thoughts,

Blush isn’t plush, passions swathed in knots,

The insignia of overtures, or a betrayal of lie,

Fleeing and recurring, flutter in a lover’s eye.

 

Blush’s like steamy season, leisurely to stray,

Glances accost, hearts differ, a tricky display,

A sign of love and shame, a decoy to defame,

A hundred imps’ toil, unseen in human frame.

    By Dr. Riaz Ahmad, December 13, 2025

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