Petal by petal...

"your slightest look easily will unclose me though I have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose (I do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands". E.E. Cummings

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