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