A seed fallen in soil finds life.
On stone—it's wasted.
In a bird's nest—it’s eaten.
your love for me…
is that rare seed,
meant to be eaten,
slipped from a beak,
bounced off a stone,
landed on soil—
and bloomed against all odds..
Not every love survives...
But yours did—like a seed meant to be eaten,
slipped from fate’s grip,
touched stone,
and still found earth.
Bloomed, like us.🌿❤️
❤️
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