harbor my boat to the tightrope
of your lip lines
if it sounds as if I'm trying too hard
it's only because I'm trying so hard
for something that seems easy for you

your smile:
the gawky kid in me thinks
when I grow legs as long as yours
I want to spend the suntime
watching how
your smile grows
the gentle lover in me agrees
your lips are nearly ripe
to think I am a portion
of your blossom's season
the rain and fertile ground
where your joy is dancing