How could love be a four-letter word but be so complex?
It’s hard to describe because it’s a feeling
you get, no not just for anyone.
They have to be special enough to make your
heartbeat faster.
It has to make your soul cry for that special person.
And the mere thought of that person has to
cause pink butterflies in your butterfly.

Real love, true love is as beautiful as the pink Camellia.
Its light pink hues give off gentleness.
Real love, true love is never forced.
It flows like a river of honey
and blooms in the sun and rain.
The Green is the backbone and the Lover.
The beautiful Pink flowers are the Beloved.
When these two come together, there’s no separating.
Only a real and true love as nature intended.

Real love, true love is like a white Camellia.
It adores the hearts that have combined.
For those two hearts are pure with clear intentions.
There’s no ill-intent.
They waited for nature patiently.
Nature watched as they grew from her roots
and blossomed perfectly for each other.
The energy and vibes are verified by the stars.
When two such flowers become one,
no separation is necessary.
They can only be a real and true love as nature intended.

Real love, true love is as symbolic as the
red Camellia.
Red is the desire, the want that the beating hearts had for so long.
The deep desire that kept their hearts beating.
The red Camellia blooms beautifully as nature
intended it to.
The love that sprouts will be so deep and heartfelt
that it will never end.
It’ll go on for eternity and represent just what
nature wanted it to.

Real love, true love can’t be found so easily.
This love may seem like it’s taking too long
but when it arrives,
bear in mind,
It was never late.

-Mia J
4-15-2020

© 2020 Mia J

Often times in my orchard...

I see her moving in graceful steps of bellet in a baby pink tulle skirt...

The wind carries her from the ground to the sky... Like a playful lover blowing kisses of affection...

Her essence is ether...and her heart a lovely gathering of bonded petals...

Her bee buddies always seem to cling to her... humming to her tales of colorful lands...

She baths in hiding of chilled dew and contours her cheeks in divine pink...

I wonder if the holy earth sprouted her or an angel from the sky... for her beauty seems  neither of heaven nor of the earth...

Whatever be her origins or her source of grace...the heart reaches out to her in dark times...

To lead me to the way of light...
Slowly and stealthily through the steps of pink!

She sang the trot like she owned the narrative,
as if she was singing about her inner most secret.

-The  lady who lost her lover
The place where she met him
The Place with the Camellia flower

It was a place of summer and ray bloomed
while it matched the radiance of the two Paramour
and a reminder of their internal chest thumped in unison

In the street where they first met she stood alone
fatigued with no more breath to give
Many nights shed her tears by the Camellia flowers

Now the flower leave crumbled
The petals showed it's red bruises
and falling like the tear drops

When will the lover come back to her
To the lonely Camellia Flower
When will he come back-

The song ends with a grasp
as this German lady song ends with her whisper
To the Korean Trot song of the past

To the song "Lady Camellia!"

The garden looks lovely at this time of day
but an essential ingredient is not here
for without your feel for its Gaia
It’s not really a garden I fear.

I touch a rose and see your beautiful face
in the hibiscus and camellia it’s there too
but without your gentle encouragement
their beauty just doesn’t shine through.

I sit on a small garden bench in the shade
and I think of the things that we said
and the tears start to fall and they just cannot stop
how I wish for those good times instead.

I’ll carry on tending our small garden
I know that you’d like it that way
but it will never again have that sparkle
that it did when you tended each day.



©Joe Wilson – The now empty garden 2014