My love is like a red, red rose
that blooms one day in spring;
its beauty fills the world with awe
and wonder, but the thing
itself will fade and turn to seed
bring forth some future flower
and by its death, though sad indeed,
live on through endless hours.
Its petals fade and fall to dust
lose their warm glow and luster;
and those who simply feel they must
preserve them, only filibuster.
For love is like a red, red rose,
it cannot be contained –
and though its pattern few may know,
the truth is clear and plain:
The world is filled with wond’rous things,
that show themselves, then go.
Each moment gone, another brings,
in one unending flow.
And love, to grow, must also change
so it can bloom anew –
Thus, like the rose in different seasons
is my love for you.
28 AUG 2003
after Robert Burns
for Starlight Dances, born on Burns Night