Happy Birthday, Ester

An ester is what makes the rose smell sweet --
   A compound gushing from the labyrinth
Of bud and bloom to make a fragrant treat
   Of cowslip, marigold or hyacinth.
There’s one for every iris that you see:
   It’s in there, making scents out of the blue,
Slaving away at the olfactory--
   But not one works its magic more than you,
My Ester, with your own complex bouquet --
   Tender and heady; soothing, sharp and lush.
With lily’s grace and orchid’s bold display,
  The oak’s integrity, the lilac’s blush,
      This life’s a damask rose beyond compare
      Because within it blossoms Ester Clare.

 Copyright 2011 Matthew J Wells