Meditations on a Monstera Plant

What could I possibly tell you about 

love that hasn’t been said before?

I’d rather sit here, watch your body

kneeling in the silver light, as you tend

to our monstera plant, with such 

focused tenderness, that when I call 

your name, you startle, as if you were

somewhere else entirely, in a dream

or under a spell, but then you smile

at me, another gentle leaf unfurling,

and, so briefly, I am a child again,

unhurt by this whole world.