Tiny Dancer

You move

 from petal to petal.

I am a quiet lyric in your arms,

a ballon in flight

 gently floating down

 through the whisper of your breath,

would you move to embrace

 that charm of unexpectedness?

Does your heart open to the affection of the sun,

a tender release from the brutality

 and viciousness

 of a winters day of the pale sex?

If only you would give my flower a name.

 The columbines cling to my gown and my thighs

 like a child clutching protection

claiming her love.

I am but a fish diving

a less exact poisson

 to a fetal arrangement,

 then new again at the thought of you

 till I awaken

to an adagio

 of alyssa, dahlia and iris of blue.

Written for Vesna's Inspiration project on Migue's Blog.  Thank you for the invitation.