Oh, Love,
I like to think that beauty outshines the madness -
that petals are more brilliant than thorns
could ever be potent.
Maybe that's how you've managed to keep me alive
for so long with nothing more than a glass jar,
a handful of dirt, some water, and a spoonful of lullabies
filled with nothing but the utmost adoration.
Oh, Love,
You truly are made of the sun's brilliance
to find me as radiant as this rose -
glorious, cheerful yellow
like your own rays dancing through the room
landing on every heart with the simplicity of
a butterfly's kiss, and the epitome
of hope needed now more than ever.
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