Tipped toe-ly
Dusk droops,
Plays with
Naive teen.
She fills up
Stoic beech wood
With rustle and sigh.
Ripples whisper
O’ teen
Do you hear: Love?
From moon.
Teen bewildered
Say what; She..?
Love had pored, she-
On Romance Point,
Fragrance smeared
Feet of
Her…?
She quests for!