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A rose marks the page, my words
have faded over time, the pages have yellowed
and are worn from being read over and over again.
Every time you open this page
the rose is new just like my love for you.
Love is a journey beginning with a rose bud
and becoming a bouquet.
Thorns run up and down their stems
watch where you place your fingers
you will bleed and so will your heart.
My rose marks your page always. ❤
(c) 2010 Kimber Michaela
I suffer from chronic migraine - at The Mindful Migraine blog I share some of the ideas that have helped - I hope they help you too.
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