Christiane Piningre - Meeting

You knocked
at the door of my life
with delicacy,
like the butterfly
approaches the flower,
just slightly brushing its petals.

When we met
I was …thistle,
odourless, insipid,
posting my sharpened spikes
to those approaching me.

You made me
… rose,
scented, bright,
refined,
confident,
with my spines filed.

Christiane Piningre

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/meeting-15/