Real love means being vulnerable
Opening my heart might leave me bruised
True love means laying down my life
To choose another’s good

Real love makes me take chances
Against the worst of odds
It’s a rose grown by the well-traveled path
Blooms though it may be under-trod

Barely grown, yet standing at the alter
We were so young then, all those years ago
White with innocence and green with youth
So much life to come - what did we know?

My soul has become languid
All passion lies dormant in my soul
Chilly winds have made me cold
Threatening to consume me whole

I’ve lost my taste, I hope for good
My soul is weary of things that don’t last
Wasting time on things like sand
One day here, the next withered like grass