The Art of Respect

 

“Don’t worry,

I love you.”

He reached down for more.

 

Beautiful,

Wild,

And free.

 

I’d been a flower,

Before.

 

Taking it upon yourself,

You stripped me

Of my petals.

A young flower,

Led to believe

 

This must be love.

 

“I love you,”

I’d been told,

Before.

 

And so,

As I grew more petals,

They’d been taken the same way.

They would hit me with the same words,

“I love you”, they’d say.

 

This must be love.

 

Until one day,

A boy was so kind to ask,

“May I please hold your hand?”

 

Asked,

I’d been taken aback.

 

Then,

I gave the kind boy my hand,

And later,

My heart too.

 

Curious one day,

I asked him,

“Why did you?”

 

He told me,

“You see,

You are a flower,

Beautiful,

Wild,

And free.

 

Your petals,

They’re delicate,

And most important to me.

 

Because I love you,

I cherish your soul,

And beaming heart.”

 

So it hit me,then,

What set him apart.

Respect had shown through,

 

What an exquisite work of art.

 

This, is love.