Lolita

Languid murmur, but soft,
the sweetest of blossoms
delicate, subdued
such beauty is unfair

you are not ripe
yet delectable as honeydew
more fragile and intricate
than calligraphy

more tantalizing than any fruit
and safer than any dwelling
how I could watch you for days
work grace into your art

you are so pure
and I dare not defile you
with a touch of my hand
or even a glance,

as always,
I am unworthy.