Agrarianly Attributed Adoration

A Poem by Richard Parker

Dedicado a ella, que fue la inspiración al no devolver mi corazón, al menos con ella siempre se sentirá como en casa. [ig:@r_p_iterated]

You must wonder why I pursue your affection with such fervor, this question is reasonable that's for sure, especially when any results are hardly ever in my favor. To help us understand let's contrast to a situation that's agrarian: Why plant the seeds when there's no guarantees that the roots will take seat? With this responsibility no assurances are implicit but If with luck the roots do set, with no just reward will you be met. Only this: a daily chore seeing as now you have a life to care for. Water it will need to sip, but tread carefully so that it's needs are met to the exact requisite. Too little and your sapling will surely wither but too much and all of its oxygen you will smother. So to better understand the task at hand I asked the humble gardener why he bothered and this is what he proffered:

"Just look at all my beautiful flowers, not to mention all my produce and their natural colors. With love and care they turn from dull green and brown to yellow and all around there's lavender, peach, tangerine and so many more and all that was necessary was a simple routine: a daily dose of love and affection and not to mention lots of attention. A Daunting task to most, this is true but not to the privileged few that have had the pleasure to view our hard work as it grew and in all it's splendor, all the fruits it did forth spew"

So I suppose that like the gardener I also realize that this task is an enterprise; a lifetime long, daily excersize but I too have seen the beauty, when I'd look at you and I'd smile coyly, your face would light up shyly, flushed brightly and scarlet like a rose in a sunlit meadow valley. Such a setting in all it's beauty surely doesn't do you justice. Picturesque and perfectly appealing, even though it may sound like it would be apropos for a marvel such as that which is you, in all reality, there is nothing that could ever do, so I remember inadvertently creating a treasured memory as I chose to describe you plainly as: "my little tomato."