Your slightest...

Your slightest look will easily unclose me though I have closed myself as fingers you open always petal by petal myself as spring opens (touching skillfully, mysteriously) her first rose. Or if your wish be to close me, I and my life will be shut very beautifully, suddenly. As when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending: nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility: whose texture compels me with the color of its countries rendering death and forever with each breathing. (I do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice if your eyes is deeper then all roses)Nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.