My love is a pure white rose

with a single shining thorn.

To her belongs my heart and soul

and my every waking morn.

 

If I could only tell her

and proclaim my love aloud,

Then we might make the sky our home

and we’d sleep upon some cloud.

 

But if her heart did differ

and her thorn took mine to spear,

Then that white rose would stain blood red

and my heart would bleed red tears.

 

Now that’s a risk I’d embrace

if she’d give just one clear sign;

A nodding smile or a glancing touch

just to say that she’d be mine.

 

If she could do that for me

and make all my dreams come true,

Then I would tell her all of this

and to start I’d say “It’s You.”

1 Comment