vrijdag 24 februari 2017

The Rose

The rose

Some say: love, it is a river, that drowned the tender reed
Some say: love, it is a razor, that leads your soul to bleed
Some say: love, it is a hunger, an endless sake in need
I say: love, it is a flower, and you it's only seed

It's the heart afraid of breaking, that never learns to dance
Its's the dream afraid op waking, that never takes the change
It's the one that 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 to lonely and the road has been to 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 the sun's love in the spring becomes the rose.

Bette Middler

1 opmerking: