A Blossom Of Love

For all their beauty, for the moments of pain,
For all the times they’ve died away,
As soft as a feather the petals fall
One by one, till all in all, lie scattered across the ground

A rose in full bloom in a lover’s hand,
Clasped tightly against the place where love began
But as with love the beauty fades,
Till one by one the colour’s shades lighten.

For a dying rose in a lover’s hand
Is not where the essence of love began
Of pain filled beauty, the rose with its thorns
Clasped tightly against the place where agony begins.

For a pathway of beauty, once more lost,
Is where the rose and love did cross
From the first moment when it began
The touch of a rose in a lover’s hand

And out of this touch a love did bloom,
But as with the rose, it died as it aged
Till all in all, the beauty of moments did fade
A blossom of love that died.

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