Finding True Love
The old rhyme goes that violets are blue,
maybe! But violets vary from pale apricot to white too.
And roses are red....bah! Who says?
I've seen them in all colours, even black.
Some like white flowers, others yellow or red.
Me, I love them all, who cares?
A flower is a flower, it's the thought that counts.
And when their life span is over
I grieve for I equate them with my life.
For when a flower blooms, is it the inception of love?
And when it dies, is it the end of it all?
When we fall in love, are we prone
to vagaries of life, vulnerable to hurt
and eventual death? But we could just strike gold,
and meet our true love, two lovely pure white doves
cooing away, lovingly all the way.
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