Lovesongs for one bloom

It must be a sign of something that I find myself swaying with a soft dreamy smile to the sweetest bachata lovesong this morning.  Maybe a sign of healing.  Or of peace with where I am.  But definitely with the hope that lives on.  The belief in people, in beauty, in friendship, and in love.

My curls are shorn and my heart is worn but today there is a new leaf, green and bursting out of my stem.  A new spike growing off the orchid, laden with buds waiting for the right time to bloom.

Being a bud is a beautiful thing.  It isn’t as intense or as flashy as full bloom.  The bud is more fragile, more uncertain, more tender and more hopeful.  What colour will it be?  What fragrance will it give?  And, should it be God’s will, whose table will it grace?

The answers will come at the right time. But for now I will sway in the breeze of the bachata song and trust that all will bloom as I hope.

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