I wanted to write a story and I found a poem instead.
I don't mind a tree and even prefer a flower.
But Sylvia's smile is what I want.
I can't possess her smile. I can only inspire it.
Like a root that was uprooted, some vines grew that grew to be leaves.
Like a lantana umbrella. A pot of gold had greated the vine.
But then I bought a blue love berry flower that seems to like butterflies.
A poem isn't a person. A garden isn't a woman. A bee isn't a human.
All the qualities of star strings have the grasping air of star dust.
Don't grasp for dust and ignore the sun.
I hope that made you smile.
What makes this a form of respect and not obsession is that love is transformed into a beautiful life I can create without any demands on you.
That's respect.
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