May 8, 2007
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 end-less aching need. I say Love.. It is a flower.. And you.. Its only seed. It's the heart.. afraid of breaking.. that never.. learns to dance. It's the dream.. afraid of waking.. that never.. takes the chance. IT's the oNE who won't be taken.. who can not seem to give. And the soul.. afraid of dying.. that NEVER.. learns to LIVE.. When the night.. has been too lonely.. and the road.. has been too long.. When you think.. that love is only.. for the lucky.. and the strong. Just remember.. In the winter.. Far beneath.. the bitter snow.. Lies the seed. That with the sun's love.. in the Spring.. becomes the rose......courtesy ~Bette Midler