Would you please critique this poem on an Indian Summer's Queen?
the Gulmuhar reveals her face,
glowing amber gilt edged green,
veiled in tatted crimson lace.
Little flames of scarlet fire,
grace her gold and crimson crown,
vying with the royal spire,
beacon to an arid town.
Gusts of breeze light up the air,
hailing her as Queen supreme,
petal sparks flit here and there,
a tribute to her sweet regime.
And when my walk is done, complete,
Her scattered petals soothe my feet.