And So Will We My Love Poem by Ludvig Borg

A silver flower's all I give,
a stem built with passion red,
a flavour of the flower lives,
in a hour still ahead.

Well, theres many paths to walk along,
but to one and one only you must stick,
because theres numerous words and a dozen songs,
but only one as passionate as blood is thick.

But as the passion dies and the songs grow old,
the flowers soon will perish,
as your temperate rise and you fall so cold,
all things they must diminish.

And so will we my love.