A Rose

A rose will never stay the same,

Its lines are not always clean cut,

Its pattern is never predictable,

And its process cannot be planned nor can it be rushed by your touch,

It grows in the direction it means to,

It blossoms when it is ready.

Forever growing,

Never ending,

When the cold of winter is near the rose will not die but merely transform,

And once spring arrives bringing with it new hope the rose will begin its process of rebirth,

 

Love is complicated

Like a rose it’s never the same,

It’s always growing,

Never ending,

It may fall to the gloom of the cold,

But it will return when a new love comes like the blossoms of the spring time.

A time will come when a rose will continue to thrive in spite of the weather,

And when that time comes you will know true love has found you and there will be no need for rebirth because its blossoming petals will remain, firm, hard, steady and ready to feel the power…

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