Yeah, okay, sure . . . but
To call her lovely as a flower,
you know,
like Shakespeare and his rose
is all right I guess, but
we know that
flowers die
just as she and I will die someday.
And before flowers die
they start to fade
and once that begins
they lose their
beauty.
I suppose
the same could be said of her
may be true of her for some.
But not for me.
In my heart
she hasn’t lost her beauty
at all.
I know this sounds
too sentimental, too sweet,
too romantic
and like a lie,
this idea that her beauty,
part of nature
is immune to the rules
of reality.
I know it sounds
unbelievable,
a violation.
It may be false most everywhere else
but not in the hidden places of love,
not in those shadows of light
that exist in our souls
through our willingness
to believe and will them to be true.
And to feel and know their truth
that such love is eternal,
like Shakespeare,
like his rose.
