Love is but a delicate rose
That adorns the earth with grace.
Love is an exotic flower, I suppose,
A child of Venus, dressed in Chantilly lace;
Love is the offspring of desire,
Bred of pure affection and true passion
It is the soul's exquisite fire...
Love shall never quite go out of fashion.
Love is the sacred blood of matrimony.
It flows constantly within its' veins,
Like an everlasting sea.
Love is enduring to the end, taking great pains
yet with patience it is forgiving;
Love is a precious rose
Which blossoms slowly into one beauteous flower,
And spreads its fragrance to enchant the nose
With its' alluring scent and its mystique power.
Love is born of that maternal seed
Which transforms instantaneously
Into a beautiful flower of selfless deeds
Of kindness and wonder.
2004 © Mary Aris, All rights reserved