Flowers

These flowers were forgotten
left in the waterless vase
until they turned brittle brown,
became bare dry sticks;
leaves fallen, petals long lost.
Flowers in memory only.

And you cannot remember
why I bought them for you,
or the single one you picked
to wear in your wet hair,
as you stood, naked and fresh,
soap-perfumed from your bath.

You laughed then, at my smile.
You knew you had the power
and I had this desire
to kneel between your legs
and give my thanks
to you and your nudity.

Your hands on my head,
pulling me even closer still
as you fell backwards
into my favourite armchair.

I remember smiling up at you,
naked and laughing,
as the flower fell
from your wet hair.