My love is fragile but alive,
like a newly budding flower.
Longing for your warm touch
like a soft springtime shower.
Where I will colorfully blossom,
pedals stretching out to you wide,
fragrantly releasing its emotion
held deep inside.
It will be prime for the picking,
a bountiful harvest you could reap,
a succulent gift of pure love,
and forever yours to keep.
It’s your magical life giving light,
that’s all it will need,
or it will shrivel and die
like a lonely forgotten weed.