My sweet buttercup* he whispers,
his lavender hush echoes through my mind
and penetrates each curve of my inner skull.
My pretty daisy, my lilac, my blossom.

The tall grass laced with dandelions wraps itself around the both of us,
as he wraps himself around me.  
The meadow hides us until we choose to be found.  
Until we emerge, we are lost.  
Only when the last petal is picked off,
will we be truly seen.