Studio Renee

You
As a vine
with a single bud,
crawl down my thighs,
slipping between my toes,
looking for the soil
beneath my feet.
Spotted red like
bougainvillea,
my wet legs shake
but I don't run.
Your thorns-
small and sharp,
are teething. 
Instead I lick
the shimmering dew
from your leaves
and tiptoe lightly
to not disturb
your gentle slumber.
I will not 
rest my feet 
long enough to root
and I will not 
prune you back.