The Rose

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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 snows
lies the seed
that with the sun's love
in the spring
becomes the rose

This post is dedicated to The Rose in my life.  She has reached 91 years young today because she has always had a dream, she has always had a goal, she has always had a design of some form in her mind and

she has never been afraid to serve,

she has never been afraid to give,

she has never been afraid to love and

she has never been afraid to live. 

I love you, Mama.

[Digital scrapbook layout by granddaughter, Leslie]