Still

like trees in Spring or like the red roses when they are in full bloom, here is my love again, waiting to be admired. I can say I have forgotten that season, I've been removing thorns. but at the end, I always comeback to the same point cherchez la femme! Not that I don't try It's just that I still care I still wait, I'm still in flames this is not a bed of roses but still a bed. I look for your sweating hands,every night. your rolling eyes, and your whispering sonnets I look for the way you still cry I look for that butterfly sensation.