When Fruit is Born

Seduction isn’t always with fire

Sometimes it happens softly…

with voices that are lowered,

With whispers or with a touch that lingers

And a kind of gentleness

that makes our ribs

forget how to guard our hearts

And when the masks slip

Love grows where it is planted

Nurtured

Felt

It brings and feeds

our desire to be desired

To be accepted

And somehow

magic happens

The blossom has scent

And fruit is born

A fruit tree in blossom