Love is an Unplanned Storm

Love can never be a planned thing,
Something that can be seeded,
Nurtured with gentle appreciation,
A bud warmed by a predicable hand.
Watered, and carefully pruned,
Until it flowers into maturity.

Love is a wild and maddening thing,
It staggers, buffets, and tears away,
Pulling your feet from the ground,
Leaving you wild-eyed and breathless,
Desperation makes your need a cry,
And grasping hands lock on for dear life.

So what love will ever the gardener enjoy,
As the tempest destroys their efforts?


3 thoughts on “Love is an Unplanned Storm

    1. Thank you, Tanya!
      Yes, whether or not loving is worth the effort definitely one of those big questions that come to mind every now and again.
      I appreciate the comment!

      Liked by 1 person

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