True love is not a flash in the pan; it is something that sparks within friendship and grows into a roaring camp fire. All the water in the world can’t douse its flame. It burns endlessly. A love like that is worth waiting for, fighting for, and protecting.

Eugene Barilla and Song of Songs 8:4;6-7

This is for the friend whose fire is yet to be...

You found me…

In the Winter of my discontent when all my hopes for love felt jaded and I saved myself through freezing to -22⁰C.

You thawed me…

I came to life for you–the first colorful buds of Spring opening cautiously, scared to trust the scorched earth with their beauty and light.

You watered me…

The heat of your Summer as you encouraged and celebrated my dreams brought my garden to bloom.

You harvested me…

In the beauty of Autumn, in the fields full and ripe for picking, you saw the beauty in me and harvested my love for your own.

You give me an all seasons love…

You open yourself to me–unafraid to lay all secrets bare. The sparked flame of your love burns away the baggage of mine and I reciprocate gratefully.