Please understand.
This is a fictious story.
Mostly.
I never met him.
This never happened.
But is there some element of truth?
It began with a branch of thought.
I trimmed it off,
And instead of throwing it away,
I put it in a vase of water.
And it sprouted a few buds
Which opened into a flower.
This delicate thing
Made of gauze and air.
I left it hanging 
And gave it to you
To see.