I can't wait to pick up a bucket and fill it with love.

I will put on my garden boots and traipse across the wet grass and gather flowers and weeds and dirt and pile them all in my tin bucket of love.

I will skip down the street in my summer sandals and gather wildflowers in my apron and scatter them across the roadway to fill the path with love.

If I can spread love eveywhere like seeds in the wind maybe I will find a door to a secret garden where everyone will visit and hug and get along.

As I write my story of fantasy,

I pick up the old rusty bucket left out in the rain.

It is empty.

I will fill it with love.