Love is like a field of butterflies, fluttering around in their radiant, gorgeous colours. Love is like sunshine after a rainy day, fallen raindrops glittering like diamonds, but more precious, though less appreciated.
Love to me is like dancing, dancing in a garden filled with daffodils, primroses, lavender, and daisies. But love is often like dandelions, common, treated like something to get rid of, yet there is still a marvel to how its seeds get blown away by gentle winds.
They represent such beauty, telling tales of fleeting love, yet, when those seeds land, they make more dandelions. Like love, its fleeting, and you'd be hard pressed to keep it from being blown away, but when it does blow, it lands in the hearts of many, and more, love grows from it, no matter how fleeting.
Love cannot be replaced, for every dandelion is special, as every heart is different. But it can be shared, sometimes unwittingly by mistake, yet no matter, for I find it beautiful.
But alas, love is, and always will be, fleeting. But we always should strive to hold on to it, because we never know, when the next seeds of love would land in our barren hearts, and if it would even grow, or be shared.
YOU ARE READING
The Poetic
PoetryA poetry in motion, awakening the soul. A pure sentence, to change a life. Washing the heart with love and sorrow, a beginning and an end.
