Dew

When I am 
full with love 
it spills over 
and makes everything 
wet with dew
like heavy laden 
blossoms that bend
from the night’s 
chill that collected 
like little puddles 
on little petals 
that then sprinkle 
once shook plucked 
or played upon 
the beauty therein 
dancing like little 
diamonds about the 
neck of a 
girl on her 
way to dance