My first attempt at poetry.
My love met you in a bar,
A casual meet, a friendly greet.
We did not date according to fate.
I did not send my passions to sail on sparkle-blinded oceans,
Seeking lands destiny made especially for me.
I did not discover you.
I chose a patch,
Simple soil unclaimed unfettered unloved.
I brought you here,
I brought you who could have been her, or her, or her.
Together we uplifted the earth,
Planted a seed and sat back to watch.
We oft trampled that soil,
Swore to burn it to cinder,
Then burn cinder to hell,
But our seed grew roots,
Slipping a little deeper,
Spreading a little wider through earth’s soft skin.
Stalk and sprout rose from our understanding,
Flowery petals bloomed pink and rose red from our affections.
That’s our love blossoming there,
That fully grown flower,
In that secret garden now ours,
Plucked not from destiny,
Gifted not from your divine entities,
But grown, cultivated,
By you and me.
At one time it could have been her, or her, or her
I brought to that patch of soil.
Now, there can be no other,
For this flower I’ve come to savor
Cannot be found through mortal endeavor,
Nor prophecies and guidance divine.
It can only be grown
By you and me,
This poem dialogues a groom speaking to his bride, but honestly it could digress to represent any kind of romantic expression. I got the idea from expanding upon my personal idiom: “True love is cultivated, not discovered.”
I have to say, poetry has a rather powerful allure. Unlike longer short stories, poems can be written before the initial inspiring seizure wears off. I like that :O