The Art of Respect

The Art of Respect


“Don’t worry,

I love you.”

He reached down for more.




And free.


I’d been a flower,



Taking it upon yourself,

You stripped me

Of my petals.

A young flower,

Led to believe


This must be love.


“I love you,”

I’d been told,



And so,

As I grew more petals,

They’d been taken the same way.

They would hit me with the same words,

“I love you”, they’d say.


This must be love.


Until one day,

A boy was so kind to ask,

“May I please hold your hand?”



I’d been taken aback.



I gave the kind boy my hand,

And later,

My heart too.


Curious one day,

I asked him,

“Why did you?”


He told me,

“You see,

You are a flower,



And free.


Your petals,

They’re delicate,

And most important to me.


Because I love you,

I cherish your soul,

And beaming heart.”


So it hit me,then,

What set him apart.

Respect had shown through,


What an exquisite work of art.


This, is love.




This poem is about: 
Our world


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