The rose

some say love it is a river that drowns tender reed
some say love it is a razor that leaves your soul to bleed
some say love it is a hunger, that endless aching need
i say love it is a flower and you it's only seed
it's the heart afriad of breaking that never learns to dance
it's the dream afriad of waking that never takes the chance
it's the one who won't be taken who can not seem to give
and the soul afraid of dying that never learns to live
when the night has been too lonely
and the road has been too long
and you think that love is not 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