Flower of love

I loved a rose once.
A small, red rose.
When I saw it,
I wondered of the creation of God.
I kept it in my pocket, and forgot.

The next day, I found it dead.
But it left a thorn at my chest.
A drop of blood, it caused.


I loved a lady once,
A nice hearted one.
Again I wondered the creation of God.
I kept my promises, and waited.

And this time, I lost her...
But she left words at my heart.
Words of love, they were.


I saw a tiny girl,
playing at a park.
And gave her a flower.
What is it? she asked.
Love. I answered.
And she ran away.
'Love it is, which does not die.' I said.

-November '07