Love is a flower held together
stitched petal by petal
under climatic changing weather
it loses fettle.
Sometimes it's like cacti, defensive
it's so resentful
of anything inoffensive
the slightest little bit reverential.
Its gaze burns, says I can bloom alone.
Often, times it wilts
cries hold me, water me, I'll atone!
My attrition submits.
'I'll open here love only for you.'
Lay my head in your arms
whatever these storms muster, construe
whatever's the paradox?
I'll rise I'll turn and flower for you
'right here-love will do? '
whatever the climatic weather
loves the flower holds us together.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Love is a beautiful flower definitely. Very wise and nice imagery is drawn here about poem. Interesting....10