Love's first bloom

 I dreamed of being in love. I wrote about it. I read about it.

I fell in love. Fell into it like a rose into a brandy snifter and there I floated.

A parody of love. Snow white in a glass coffin, cold and alone. Burning with drama. Trying to ignite a flame. A catalytic converter in a closed garage, but love did not die because it had yet to be born.

Only when drama died did I begin to sense Love's first bloom.