We are all flowers in the garden of the world, but she –
she is an orchid, pure and white and lovely,
a small blossom on willowy stem.
she blooms, and I am lost
in her delicate lines.
She breathes life into me –
I was adrift in winter;
she gives me the promise of spring.
Youthful yet wise,
elegant and profound,
I dream of the day I may see her again.
For what other flower can there be?
What other love?
None but my orchid.