Cherry Break

There was sweat on my brow,
beads of them as I approached her.

I was a young man, still green.

She was a mature woman
like the long blades grow free
in the lush of nature.

My hand in hers
she took me
into her warmth.

Nervous, shy,
you could hear the grass grow
in the quiet of my fear
in the silence of my lust.

I knew nothing.
As we rolled in the dew of sex
as I fumbled and groped.

I in some instinctive wisdom
entrusted myself fully to her.
She set our bodies in a fluid motion
my virginity now neatly cut.

We spent days
as I explored
the fresh sweet air
of 'us'.

It was then I became a man.
Learned how you hold a flower
how you manicure the stem
how you water the soil
how you delicately hold the petals.

It was then I became a gardener.
A gardener:
worthy to tend a garden
so vital.