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.