This man who loves me
Does not go by tradition
He speaks less when prodded,
Adding lines when I'm silent
This man who loves me
Likes the road untraveled
Jumps over fences and barricades,
By danger he's undeterred
This man who loves me
Won't cry for losses
Won't cry for what's spilled
Won't go after gone, moves on
This man who loves me
Lays out a plan, daydreams
Weaves beautiful memories
By going into all that he can
This man who loves me
Quite unique but not different
I read him as lines on my own palm
We connect, we intersect, as one.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The spurge plant includes many species in arid parts of Africa and India that resemble cactus plants. Most are valued by gardeners because they're drought-resistant and almost always ignored by deer and rabbits. Spurges are surefire picks for adding color to the garden. I have chosen this cactus-like plant to illustrate a love that can last for its functionality and durability, but not for beauty which is easily consumed and dissipates.