Oh, Flower!

My first known poem, written in the eager anticipation of an extremely late-arriving puberty:

Oh flower! Sweet flower!
Come, flower, make me gay!
Flay me with thy pistil.
Adorn my face with spray.

And come, Apollo, music-muse!
Come charm me with thy flute.
I'll hammer on my organ,
If thou would'st strum thy lute.

I wish to be a cherub romping
'mongst the swaying reeds.
My naked bottom beckoning
The wind betwixt my knees.