Piquitos (to Cris)

And like an

Eyelash delicately swept

Away by my

Finger and like

A dew drop

Bouncing from the

Leaf to petal

To ground and

Like the first

Snowflake landing upon

My outstretched tongue

And still like

The last auburn

Maple leaf that

Falls on a

Forest floor my

Kisses find my

Way from face

To foot these

Are the piquitos

Of my desire

For only you