Ever watch a rose garden
GROW.
First, starts the blooms,
that blossom in the summer.
The leaves enrich,
and the thorns become stronger.
The Garden of Eden,
Vivid with colors.
That warm spring rain,
drizzle to an
end.
Last drop of rain
rolls off the lips of the rose,
right down to its limbs.
Then the harsh
winter
comes rolling in.
Watching the rose's soul
slowly unravel.
Slowly,
one by one,
it drops to its
grave state of matter.
Till there is nothing left,
but ashes on the mantel.
Does this not...
Kinda sounds like love?
Starting off slow and strong.
Beauty overwhelming.
Now the true colors start to show.
And you know,
when it rains...
it pours.
Last drop of faith
runs down your lips.
Your now on the outside looking in;
watching your peddles
float in the wind.
When your spine finally b r e a k s,
and there is nothing
left to take.
You're lying in your grave,
thinking about that day.
When the sunshine
all you needed
in that last week of May.
