E-Little Sister

1.Back home, reading in the yard.
Looking up, your hand quietly extending,
"Here," and a creamy fuscata
Bud rolls into my cupped hand.

I balance, eye the bud, inhale.
You slip silently away,
Climb singly the red porch steps,
Vanish within the dark house.

2.Your hand withdrew, you stepped back.
Very still, just beyond reach,
You poised, a girl at seventeen,
Lovely, on the edge of doubt.

Air filled where you'd stood.
An evasive scent swirled.
And I, sitting on, turning the bud,
Its skin slow, felt yours.