My First Love

Invited into your secret garden
to explore your virgin store, brimming
on newly-transplanted, exotic tree
Mounting your nubile platform, then
coasting down the smooth-bore crown
into your, soft, leafy pillow
guarded by supple but fragile bark
Patches of opal blooms rim the crest
Breaching the delicate, narrow channel,
I sip the exotic pink buds that gild your canopy

From your voluptuous crest
descending to shaded bough
Thin, spindly limbs my trestle
At the base your frilly girth spreads
A musty scent of wet moss rises,
but the spongy tread is missing
Splayed blooms of Buddha's Hand
spread their frothy apron
revealing the savory Rose hips
With my probing fingers, I snip
the thread-ends, then squeeze the tips
The frothy milk oozes onto my fingers