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Stigma
January 8, 2011
When I see you, the sun is blazing down on our faces or the wind is whistling through our leaves. It's magical. One a rose, the other an orchid. Both born for beauty and looks, but will wither quite quickly. The wind brings your pollen to my stigma. We are not meant of reach other naturally-are we? The new seeds will pass on to another eventually. I know I love you, but are wwe REALLY meant to be?
© Bree C. Marblehead, MA
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I usually only see this person once a day, but when we meet we are outside (sun on our faces, wind through our leaves-hair). The love is magical. We're both different. We're young and soon enough, we'll die. He himself was caught onto my heart(stigma). Really, we shouldn't be together because of some differences and I doubt it. Our love will eventually end and our hearts will belong to others.