My love does not lay in a bed of roses

nor does my love like to follow a trail of dying petals.

My love does not have poise’s woven into her hair,

My love is not conventional.

It is potent

Dash away the repetitive symbols,

For my love do not require these objects.

For my love will always cherish the moments.

The memory of the first hand holding,

The first held breath,

The first gentle and  truth in a kiss.

My love is not in the past,

but ever present in the now.

Fia Naturie