Sassafras

(Note on the poem: I love the metaphor behind this. This will probably go somewhere in the same metaphor, but completely different form. Just some raw work that at first glance, I think may have some potential.)

Sassafras.
Sometimes only known as a plant,
a cure for syphilis, a rare export,
but sassafras
is sassy.
Like the curves of the stems,
the hourglass figure of a woman,
stamen of the flowers,
the spikes on a pair of stiletto heels,
floating white petals,
the summer dress' skirt twirling in the sun.

The first day he called out sassafras
when I spoke out of turn, blunt,
the roots, I knew it would stick.
As the eyes gleamed with a spirit,
a defiance, a flower refusing to wilt,
there was a smile of victory,
the flower flicking off the fall's chill.