Flower Picking

"The lesbian side of nature..."

Walking deftly through the grassy wood,
I leave the world of men behind;
let fall my hair in cascading waves-
let fall my gown of floating silk.
I freely flit about as pale Diana,
seeking maidens to attend my desire.
And so I pick a blooming flower-
Be it Orchid, Rose, or Water Lily,
each its own graceful attraction-
I take its intoxicating scent,
fragrance of the fertile spring,
promising a sweet release of passion.
Blush rushes up with scarlet dye
and paints with rosy colored fingers
the petals which I spread apart;
the lips I gently coax to open
to find the blooming fruit within.
So beautiful this gift of nature-
ravishing blossoms among the woods.
Never will I seek to return to where I was,
nor take back up my confining dress.
Would that I were but a flower,
to be picked by some fair maiden.
But till that day when I am taken,
I will wander here, my breast laid bare;
spend my time in nature’s perfection-
the hidden fruit of flowers’ nectar.