Bed of Roses and Thorns

Ooh man, life could well be a bed of roses If only love alone sprinkled from the hoses. If only love flowed like an endless stream If only love didn't end like a dream. In all certainty, the antonym of love plunges you in the bed of thorns Much unlike the agile yet peaceful dove love grows weeds, rust and horns! I so pity the lovelorn, the lovesick, the forlorn whose lover flew out the window last morn But I know too of pure loves that outlast the storms for one, they didn't begin in high school dorms. They weren't instantaneous and impulsive loves for sure Less whimsical, and within the bounds of the marital bond their love tis bound to endure. In conjugal bliss's hammock fickle lovers cannot rock. For without holy matrimony Is merry go round love's agony