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The Rose


Some say love it is a river 

That drowns the tender reed.

Some say love it is a razor

That leaves your soul to bleed.

Some say love it is a hunger

An endless, aching need

I say love it is a flower,

And you it’s only seed.

It’s the heart afraid of breaking

That never learns to dance

It’s the dream afraid of waking

That never takes the chance

It’s the one who won’t be taken,

Who cannot seem to give

And the soul afraid of dying

That never learns to live.

When the night has been too lonely

And the road has been too long.

And you think that love is only

For the lucky and the strong.

Just remember in the winter

Far beneath the bitter snow

Lies the seed that with the sun’s love,

In the spring, becomes the rose




6 responses

  1. connie

    Sherri, Kimi, Thunder B. Grandpa Dewey, thank you for your beautiful thoughts.

    November 11, 2009 at 5:56 pm

  2. Sherrilynn

    Your friendship is like a beautiful Rose. In full Bloom.

    November 9, 2009 at 2:40 am

  3. connie

    Thank you for yourbeautiful comments!

    October 26, 2009 at 2:19 pm

  4. kimi

    Ilove the photos…I lvve your blog…Thanks Connie:~~((-_-))~~

    October 26, 2009 at 7:11 am


    Very True Of Those Words,Have A Fabulous Weekend

    October 22, 2009 at 8:49 pm

  6. Grandpa Dewey

    So very true. When I lived in a regular house I had a few rose gardens, always pinching of the little buds so that I could have a great looking rose on a long stem. Then I would cut them and pass them around to my friends.Take care my little rose bud.

    October 22, 2009 at 5:13 pm

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