By Pril  pril_g@hotmail.com
Date: 4 February 1998

What it once was

Love is like a flower.
It starts out as a bud.
With care it grows bigger and stronger.
Slowly, as you get to know each other, it begins to bloom.
Being together is your sun, touching is your rain, kisses become your oxygen.
Completely open it's at it's prettiest, a match made in heaven forever, fate at work.
Then, slowly one day the beautiful flower begins to welt.
One by one each petal dries out and the flower dies.
Finally, it's useless, yet the flower's still there.
But it will never be fresh or beautiful again.
In the end you have nothing at all.
Except a dried flower, ( a rose?)
To hang dried out on the wall.
To remember and cherish.
Forever, how beautiful,
It once was.