Finding peace and pleasure, risking the pain.
Wanting and comfort, we do it again.
Love lives where the wild roses grow.
Tangled in the spiked brush, a crimson glow.
Delicate petals satin soft,
Bathed in a halo of light aloft.
Yes, love lives where the wild roses grow.
Without hesitation, we instinctively go.
Linda Moore
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-wild-rose-5/
