The Rose

some say 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 endless aching need.
i say love,
it is a flower,
and you its only seed.
its the heart,
afraid of breaking,
that never learns to dance.
its the dream,
afraid of waking,
that never takes a chance.
its the one
who wont be taken,
who cannot seem to give.
and the soul,
afraid of dyin,
that never learns to live.

when the night has been too lonely,
and the road has been too long,
and you think that love is only
for the lucky and the strong,
just remember
in the winter
far beneath the bitter snows,
lies the seed,
that with the suns love,
in the spring becomes the rose