Yes, love is like a flower

It blossoms, fades and dies

With flowers it’s just nature

With love? Deceit and lies


I brought her to my garden

To court her and to wed

But she was other-minded

And chose my brother’s bed


I was consumed by anger

Incited by my pain

And so into my garden

I carried her again


She is there still, and roses

Grow wild above her head

The roses, as her lips were

Are sweet and ripe and red

About highamwriters

A group of recreational creative writers and if you ask us nicely we will let you publish some of our work
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