Psychedelic spokes
Spinning out from
An undetermined center

Periwinkle powdered
Spines that invite
Me to feel

Making a point
At my prying fingertips
From smooth to prickly

Quaint you are
When your fragrance
Murmurs a tone of earth  

A lotus of the desert
Silently beaming through
A plump body

An infant
With little
Needs

©Copyright 2014 Written and Edited by Racquel Davis