Henry Smith
An odd moment
love starts when mine detects yours,
as a bee detects pollen-rich blooms,
doesn't she smell and taste
like the nectar of the flower patch?
and in a strange dance she waggles
how far is your heart,
and which way to it lead.
O my precious flower,
since I smelled your
scent,
I never forget
how delicious you are
and if you merely intent to depart,
I’ll evaporate
Before you set a foot out.
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