Not once have I ever considered not loving you... Never will I let the rose dry up and die, all through the scars left on my hands from the thorns pricking me on the stem... But I have endured the hardest to watch your bud bloom beautifully, with utmost grace unfold…But yea, the winds of the chilling winter blow and drought followed by snow come and take my beautiful rose away.. These scars on my hands will but always burn and remind me of those times when I watched the most beautiful rose unfold…..<br /><br />JeT Campe<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/never-says-the-wind/
