Our wing tips touched

Silky, light and feathery, not much

Just a brush of a touch

There was no danger

Our touch was not in anger

Flitting and dancing about the flowers

Some of their petals have magical powers

Sustenance dancing about our feet

Ah, is the taste not sticky sweet

Is the temptation to feast 'til noon

Not more tempting than building your cocoon

But our wing tips did brush

This is not the pica for an onward fools rush

For it was just the lightest touch

A brush of a touch