Spoken by many, heard by the few
love, is a language
– Love -
is the only language
your pot plant knows
Affectionately so,
in the morning dew
love’s gentle fingertips softly
unfold and rise on their stems,
whence the heart’s goodness spills
from within, to the world
-
As the word says, they do
and eternally, they glow
because love, is a doing word
Open the curtains of your heart
Tend the garden of your being
take in the sun, and let love’s color
adorn the windowsills
of your soul, for written by many
yet felt by the few, love
is the only language
your pot plant knows
Of love, never let go