It has been on my mind for days;
the idea of writing a love poem
with words no one has used before –
when even the line above has been said.
In preparation I stood in my garden;
watched two doves settle in the cherry blossom
and asked if this was love?
Was the habit of doves to mate for life
symbolic of when my own love
scours through recipe books
to find dishes I’ll eat without bloating?
Perhaps I could write about
how I hear ‘I love you’
in acts of service;
it is why I will always say thank you
when someone washes the dishes,
cooks for me or makes me a cup of tea
without declaring sombrely
they guess it is their turn to boil the kettle.
But doves coupled
with tummy troubles
and domestic life
just doesn’t sound romantic,
© Kristiana Reed 2019