Love Like a Rose
Sweet perfume, like a summer breeze …
The rose, the queen of flowers,
has thorns that sharply prick.
Love though not a rose,
does reign over people’s hearts,
when love goes wrong,
it pricks just like the rose –
leaving one’s heart wounded and bleeding.
In the long, dark night,
lying mortally wounded,
the heart aches and bleeds heavy,
waiting for a loving embrace,
finding cold comfort,
alone in the night –
waiting for the morning light.
Like the rose,
once plucked,
then crushed on the ground,
its petals scattered about,
so the heart,
battered and bruised,
waits to heal –
once again to feel.
For hearts like roses,
have a true beauty,
one from the outside,
one from the inside,
they both shine in their own way,
each needing a tender touch –
that in its own way says so much.
And like the rose,
which will once again,
blossom and grow,
sending sweet perfume,
upon the summer breeze,
so the heart will begin to beat faster
and sally forth,
knowing that however long –
love will find it once more.
The rose admired beneath the glowing sun
and the tender summer rains,
the heart touched by a love so true –
never again to be sad and blue.
Rasma Raisters
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Lovely verse, Rasma. There is always hope for love. Take care.
Thank you, Phyllis.
Nicely penned Rasma, there are two aspects to all things and much between, and love in potential can save us, as well as bury us in pain. Well expressed and emoted.
Thank you, Tony.
Nicely penned Rasma. The heart like a rose can blossom in beauty and also can be eilted but something cold and harsh. Nice work.
Thank you, Paul.