Flower

I watch you
As you turn to the sun
And want you
As your season's just begun

Petals of ruby red
So shyly part
As your delicate head
Becomes living art

Those floral lips
So close to my face
Tantalising sips
Of your pure grace

At your exposed core
A perfect, intimate bud
Leaves me wanting more
Kneeling in the mud

I touch your long stem
Setting a stream of dewy drops
I watch them, I touch them
Feeling cool wet plops

You quiver so slight
At that small touch
And I wonder if I might
Pluck you as such

But I leave you there
My beautiful flower
Looking ever more fair
With each passing hour.