small white flowers
I gather experience
like small white flowers.
I call them choices.
This choice is tall, dark and
desperate to be needed.
That choice has young big wisdom;
his smile makes me smile,
and we agree on everything.
The one to the left
is older than the rest;
he has money and status.
His steady hands express
a lemon peel.
I delight him.
My favorite has the softest skin,
the reddest lips and broadest hips.
she is kind and stubborn
and knows who she wants to be.
I kiss her gently.
I hold them tightly
and look for water.
Their fragility terrifies me;
I beg my clumsy fingers
not to break them.
1
0
0