He loves me...he loves me not...

He loves me...He loves ne not...
Love starts as an insignificiant seed.
A wishful prayer,
a tiny fire,
a playful giggle,
a rosy blush,
a risky wink,
or a kindly smile.

He loves me...he loves me not...
Friendship buds.
A tender understanding,
a growing warmth,
a gentle trust.

he loves me...he loves me not...
The bud opens its first petals to a pair of .
sparkling eyes
which twinkle with a new passion.
A passion that overcomes all sense
until finally
a risky chance is
taken.

He loves me...he loves me not...
The rose opens into a beautiful,ruby blossom.
Everything else in the world becomes
lost in a crazy,wild nonsense
a happy oblivion of exhilararion
complete and total joy.
A sweet,innocent kiss
in the moonlight
seals the mutual promises
of never-ending fidelity.
Cherish.
Honor.
Protect.
Forever...or until

The blossom wilts,
and the petals fade,
and the promises break,
but the memories
of sunlight and the blue sky
remain fragrant
preserved in the petals
of sachets
stuffed in the back of your sock drawer
and your heart...

PS: There came a time when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom....

Another extraction from http://mysecret_in_silence.blogspot.com/ with a little editing to typo done