The flower that grows by the ˈmeɪz nestles close
   And stalks like parishioners rising to ˈpɹeɪ
   As they listen to the sun preach warm verses
   Her face aglow with petals that reach open
   Both brave and vulnerable coaxing the husk to follow
   The height beyond her bloom hides a labyrinthine
   Cast of fallen idols tangled in cunning charm
   If overgrown to see with ovarian eyes and capture
   Lurid scenes like film cut lost in the edit 
   She would strangle any ear brushing tassel 
   But in these moments there is only solar bliss
   The flower that grows by the ˈmeɪz yearning kiss