. . . Not A Pretty WildflowerI was on hold, waiting to speak to a colleague & absentmindedly gazing out of the window & across the street to the green. I watched as a gardener on a ride-on mower weaved back & forth across the ground. The machine loping the heads off some unseasonably spry dandelions as it went.
& suddenly I was thinking of you, of us & our relationship.
I've always liked dandelions, loved them even, for their feral nature. They are a somewhat devil-may-care plant. We are too - hot headed & reckless, & wild.
I know that some people may look at the way we are together, see the arguments & wonder why we are still here. They might see a weed & not a pretty wildflower that is simply unto itself . But we know the other side, the passion & fervour, & need. We know that those three little words are entwined in every cell.
You are everything to me.
I love you.