Petite Roses

If I could slide myself into the
palm of your hands,
I’d split myself into five slender stems
so all of me could fit into the
vase of your hands.

Between the stems, there is
a piece of me that I’ve hidden
wild in proximity to you.
Between your thumbs,
I’ve succumbed to the tenderness
of your smile.

Though petite, my day is no
longer incomplete.
So I took a seat and watched
the sun rise from your smile
for just a while longer.