Friendship II

A silken touch, of a cooling breeze
whispering silken words that sent
silence drifting like a lilypad in a pond.

Blooming, white flowers, growing denser
under the embracing warmth of the
early season's golden sunbeams.
Fruits not yet ripe, but promising
a harvest, nourishing, of ripening spoils,
rich of flavours of sweetness, a touch of sour,
tang and bitterness.

In this abundance of colours and tastes,
would its richness endure
without the dedication of love
cradled cultivation

Yet here you are,
a single flower,
ready to blossom.
In colours still unseen.