In the midst of laying down
on pale, curved terrain,
I gather her fingers
to my lip-
opening up buds
and scattering them
carefully
among the breaths
of her body.
The bottle of scent
is freed to the breeze,
to dip woven petals
onto a pink fruit.
Blossoms stay
flat on our bellies-
as we tickle them
and wish for a song
out of childish dreams,
bright kites to fly with.
