Love
Love is like a flower, that blooms in spring
from a bud, it goes full swing
The bud is the beginning, all quiet and shy
but then it blooms, and you give it a try
The blossom full bloom, must come to an end
the petals die, and fall with the wind
Then they deteriorate, and rot
in the dirt, of an empty lot
Ashes to ashes and dust to dust
Back to the beginning, it is a must.
Copyright © Cheri Golden | Year Posted 2008
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