Love is a battlefield,
What a common phrase.
Love does not yield,
When hardships get in the way.
Love is a garden that few take time to care for.
Many weeds will try to grow,
And occasionally they overtake the roses.
The weeds are plucked, pulled from the root,
Leaving the roses with a pure and refined scent.
Though a flower withers in the winter,
It blossoms in the spring.
With a mulch of discipline and guidance,
Fountains of fresh goals and new beginnings,
And the sunshine that comes from everlasting love.
Inspired by my favorite and only “flower”