You're just a tiny bit minimalist in your own unique way a white star I have to squint to see in daytime sky not a Mercedes five point but a Nissan Micra car you park neatly in a three point turn by my netsuke and put a circular dent on my platonic furniture
Your two humble rooms devoid of any bold sculpture except a fold-out table and a miniature bubble chair and a futon for a bed which is troublesome to share you draw the line at adornments but allow a wallflower
A bulb in a bowl is your ornamental garden feature mealtimes a nibble on grated carrot celery cucumber you run so long on empty you're an eco friendly teacher stretching out the energy is a passion of my lover engaging in lessons on sustaining a resourceful nature
Your shoes two pointe ballet slip ons easy to care barely there g-string thin cotton underwear nothing loud to upset your understated figure slight as a pin drop your bottom's semi-derrière sits so light on feet I'd swear you float on air
I rarely get to hear you come before you're in my hair with a voice pitch high as a smitten kitten's purr your upper reaches get a score sized single 'A' nice when it fits into our schemes of feng shui
I carry your bundle home on the roadway rivers of light yet you only burn one ray of candle power at night born of scintillating atoms which flow along each vein containing so much love without clutter in your frame a brave star small as wings formed of minuscule wire flutters in your eyes with minimal flare but deep desire
by Anthony Williams a bonsai has two elements, the tree and the container, and “once outside its flowerpot the tree ceases to be a bonsai.” Miniturization is not the defining feature of a bonsai; containment is, the strict boundary between the bonsai and the rest of nature. So, too, it was between her nature and mine.