The Rose

That drowns the tender reed;

Some say love is a razor,

That leaves your soul to bleed;

Some say love is a hunger,

An endless, aching need;

I say love is a flower,

And you, it's soul, the seed;

It's a heart afraid of breaking,

That never learns to dance;

It's the dream, afraid of waking,

That never takes the chance;

It's the one who won't be taken,

Who cannot seem to give;

And the soul, afraid of dying,

That never learns to live;

When the night has been too lonely,

And the road has been too long;

And you think that love is only

For the lucky and the strong;

Just remember, in the winter

Far beneath the bitter snow;

Lies the seed, that with sun's love,