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 a chance.
|
It's the one who won't be taken,
|
Who cannot seem to give.
|
And the soul, afraid of dyin',
|
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 a seed that with the sun's Love,
|
And the spring, becomes the rose.
|
|
-----------------
|
The Rose
|
Bianca Ryan |