Picked a Petal
Remember that game of:
"He loves me, he loves me not?"
Picking those pretty white petals,
wishing and hoping......
Anticipating that last pull.... like a wheel of fortune card,
hoping for loves me instead of loves me not.
With no happy ending really, because either way.....
(you knew the reasons and you knew the fantasy could be forever)
When the reality was, never at all.
Loves me meant:
Loves me from afar.....
Loves me not meant:
Loves me conditionally.....
So- I chanced it.
I picked a flower the other day...
But it only had two petals.
You see.....
Choosing love doesnt happen.....
Love?
Well, it chooses us.
I remembered that as I caught a tear that had fallen from my chin...
with the next drop landing on the little yellow center.
I watched as my tear silently soaked into the bud of the now bare
flower, ripped of all it's beauty.
Humbly, I smiled.....
....and I knew....
What love's beauty was.
Loves me or loves me not didn't matter much anymore.....
Because, love found me.... in a small way.
And just to know I was loved, at least once, at least for one second, or
a minute or a year........
By you.
Was the best love of all........
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