Perennials

They tell us love means butterflies,
Impassioned vows to stay!

Caught eyes across a crowded room,
Let lovers not delay.

But what if, once the party’s done,
The love is what remains?

Us, rinsing plastic solo cups,
As music fades away.

And “How’s your heart?” and “Are you sure
That everything’s okay?”

Or “stay here so you’ll get more sleep.”
“Tomorrow’s a new day.”

See, that’s the kind of love that fills,
As planters fill with rain,

And nurtures roots of tender shoots
Toward life’s eternal May.

So come here, love, and grow with me,
Beneath soft skies of gray.

The seeds are there; we’ve time to spare.
Love blossoms where we lay.