The china rose and its protector
I am drawn to you. My tender tender.
You care for me with a watering can.
I am complex.
You gaze at my cellular processes.
The rush hours.
You invest in this traffic. My lux flux.
Your hands hold pinkish petals and my heart.
I am spared from disease.
You’re immune to rain and its excessive traits.
You say that I give more to you than you give to me. This is true.
I keep you in an unbroken state.
This garden home is expectant.
My current is your voltage. Your breath is my current.
In and around my soil-sea, we sing like electric plankton.
Stephen Paul Wren
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