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February Roses

February 2022

The Rose

by Amanda McBroom

Some say love, it is a river

That drowns the tender reed

Some say love, it is a razor

That leaves your soul to bleed.


Some say love, it is a hunger

An endless aching need

I say love, it is a flower

And you, its only seed.


It's the heart afraid of breaking

That never learns to dance

It's the dream afraid of waking

That never takes the chance.


It's the one who won't be taken

Who cannot 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 only

For the lucky and the strong --


You just remember in the winter

Far beneath the bitter snow

Lays the seed that with the sun's love

In the spring becomes the rose.


A Red Red Rose

by Robert Burns


O my Luve is like a red, red rose

That’s newly sprung in June;

O my Luve is like the melody

That’s sweetly played in tune.


So fair art thou, my bonnie lass,

So deep in luve am I;

And I will luve thee still, my dear,

Till a’ the seas gang dry.


Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,

And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;

I will love thee still, my dear,

While the sands o’ life shall run.


And fare thee weel, my only luve!

And fare thee weel awhile!

And I will come again, my luve,

Though it were ten thousand mile.

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