How love wilts and blossoms as time goes by
Love is a deceitful rose
Sigh. Love blooms and wilts throughout the seasons. Its like a rose. We know its thorns can prick and hurt us. But the deep red petals beauty tricks us. It allures us into false hope and then we cry out in ironic surprise. We draw back in wariness and sadness. Our eyes become glossy with unshed tears. We build walls to keep other people, or should I say roses, out. But then those bricks that were carefully stacked on top of each other topples. It crashes down - either suddenly, unexpectedly or slowly. We are revealed in a sort-of vulnerability. Then our hand reaches out towards the rose again. But we are stronger and wiser than before. At least, hopefully we are.
Sigh. Love blooms and wilts throughout the seasons. Its like a rose. We know its thorns can prick and hurt us. But the deep red petals beauty tricks us. It allures us into false hope and then we cry out in ironic surprise. We draw back in wariness and sadness. Our eyes become glossy with unshed tears. We build walls to keep other people, or should I say roses, out. But then those bricks that were carefully stacked on top of each other topples. It crashes down - either suddenly, unexpectedly or slowly. We are revealed in a sort-of vulnerability. Then our hand reaches out towards the rose again. But we are stronger and wiser than before. At least, hopefully we are.