Love

There is a feeling wanting and warm.
Subtly it grows into a raging storm.
Deeper and deeper its roots wind deep.
Like the rose in winter it silently doth sleep.

Love is like the petals of the velvet rose.
Slowly it unfolds for it’s beauty to show.
Once the roots grip the earth like a vice
It cannot be torn away for any price.

For even in the snow lying white and still
The roots of love have a living will.
The flames may smoalter and smoke may be
But love will conquer your heart for me.

As the years come and go and I grow old
You hand and heart I still will hold.
Even as my eyes in death close
My spirit and soul will hold the rose.

Written by Sybil Shearin
(c)2-2005

This entry was posted on 230327H Jan 2011 and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Responses are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.

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