My life was hard fought,
But ‘twas my lover who said
To challenge the rain.
The fading twilight
Calls for the dust to settle
‘Fore the wind takes him.
The lone river rock
Stands more still than the oak tree
While the water churns.
The summer sun stands,
Burning paramount today,
With torturous pride.
Dear little flower,
Your red petals stand so proud.
Are you ever blue?
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I want a girl that looks like a flower,
And I need a girl that acts like a tree.
Maybe it’s the hypocrisy in me,
But Miss Daisy’s got that special power.
Because she’s pretty like flowers should be,
But she’s got the roots of a solid oak.
I can drink in her scent and feel it soak
Deep into my soul as she sets me free.
For I am the spring wind to her pollen,
Rain to her roots, and sun to her petals,
But for me she’s the source of my mettle.
She’s the last light before I have fallen.
It burns me when people see Miss Daisy
As a simple object that’s too be plucked,
When I, myself, cannot even construct,
The impact that she has had on me.
Is the species that best describes lovers.
Because, while they are not made without flaw,
They show balance between one another.
If you are reckless and pick them up quick,
Dead set on the scent of their sweet flower,
You will grasp at thorns and feel their prick
Until blood runs cold and love grows sour.
But if you take a moment to see them,
To look past the sharp thorns of their body,
You will find your way to a small, smooth stem,
And know they are more than just a poppy.
For a love that is devoid of thorns,
Is sure to die from the oncoming storms.
*I don’t own this image. It is originally from this site. Credit to them for such a beautiful picture.