I Love You?

Every time I said it, wrote it,
You laughed, and wildly so;
Your mirth seemed a misfit,
What tickled you into a throe?

I would say it, you'd guffaw,
Leaving me sorely perplexed,
Searching for the glaring flaw,
That had your humor flexed.

Musing on it, one such day,
I strode to get my coffee,
And the plants on my way,
Didn't seem to notice me.

It is on what I do exhale,
That the dumb things thrive,
This was beyond the pale,
Snubbing who kept them alive.

Then, sans a windy drift,
The leaves went on to jiggle;
Was this my natural gift,
Making every creature giggle?

Having admired men of reason,
I'd wanted to be their scion,
Not a clown for every season,
For every dahlia and dandelion.

Revisiting what I had said,
I was drawn to its only verb;
And I'd been badly misled,
The universal I'd tried to curb.

The air whisks through me,
Wantonly, to where it wants to; 
How different can love be?
How can I ever will love to you?