Sunday, January 26, 2020

Not Even Not Zen 196: Dead, Dead Rose

Dead, Dead Rose

Oh, my love is like a dead, dead rose
That wilted in September.
My love is like a haunting tune
That I just can’t remember.

As weary as we are, my wife,
So worn out in every way,
It’s amazing that I love you still
And love you more each day.

The days of our summer aren’t done, love,
Though the rose buds fall apart
And dusk settles throughout the lands.
There is sunshine in my heart.

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