Loves grow.  
Some like redwood trees,
Some like strands of grass.
Yet, the sun of
Touch and caring
Is welcomed with open leaves;
Petals unfolding in acceptance
And gratitude.

Loves grow.
Raging waterfalls of infatuation
Become deep, quiet ponds; even
Strong rivers of current
Union.
Your hands on my face used to
Give me shivers and goosebumps,
Now they warm me from
Skin to spine.
From bark to the innermost
Heart of the wood.

Loves grow.
Trees share branches over time;
Merge.
Centuries or seconds,
From afar enough
Even years tick tock when passing.
I'll count them with you,
Not caring for numbers as much
As movement.

Loves grow.
Roots and flowers,
Fruits from dirt.
One from more.
Your hands on my face are
Mine on yours, and our growth is
The opposite of the
Packing-up of things
And leaving.