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The Rose and The Briar
Some may imagine Paris in the Spring;
Champagne kisses that heat love's burning flame.
Some say romance dies with a wedding ring.
Oh, but I believe that is such a shame.
Too often it's confused, true love and lust,
as well as what sweet romance truly means.
Two become one, in bone, in blood, in trust,
commitment, one thing romance supervenes.
Not only whirlwinds, thunder beating breast;
lusts that burn to ash in tongues of fire.
It's the gentle caress, your lovers breath,
in loving both the rose and the briar.
Romance, is in everyday little things,
from seeds sown through the years that bloom in Spring.
Copyright ©
Crystol Woods
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