Orchard

No, I don’t love you.
Love is an orchard –
With rose bushes and tulips and tall trees with trunks thicker than molasses –
When the drought starves the most pleasantly-fragrant flowers and shuddering shrubs, their towering height will remain
Despite the mud stains drying to dirt.
No, I don’t love you.
We are not yet an orchard,
The potential between us is just a seed,
Hasn’t even breached the earth –
It is ready to germinate, preparing to one day see the sun –
It is dark now,
But every orchard starts with a seed, a bud, a single flower, a baby tree –
Our slowly, softly (budding and branching) sincerity
Grows limitlessly in the water of our waiting and the sunlight of our smiles.

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