When the bloom follows maturity,
It metaphors from the young
And those whose senses are lost in obscurity,
Even they bloom to maturity.

In our architectured independence
It became a lasting individuality.
In a world in which we want to survive
By defending our intellectuality.

Paring rather proves weakness
As a mixture of pure colours
Retracted to brake the others souls
Over thorns to match the roots.

We fear to be committed
When others are easy prey for words.
Does the same flower speak an equal truth,
Then difference would spell defamation.

Like flowers we play a word game
As words denotes magical keys.
It can unlock the hearts emotions
Under safeguard’s commitments name.

When the committing
Sow their seeds
Of understanding
And unpretending trust.

All an act of certainty
This follows beyond words,
Right in the hearts internal clock,
We find perfect meaning.

For when the roses care
Will they bare all that is rare
And over love they will dare
To lose their nightmare.

They are the strength of time
And the owners of intellect.
They preserve the truth of love
In an unending companionship.

But not until the emotion walls fall
So that a river of words
Can pave the way for action.
Then can they match with reason.

God help the peacemaker
When they came from the same fruit.
They are to perfect for Manhood
When they guard the door of love.

We build a new life
On the heart’s time,
Where attitudes find new value
Under the complimentary help.

If those mighty green hands
Could only touch the flowers
To permanently know the feelings,
I can see their minds true colours.

How can a heart long
And worry over wrong,
Could we ever understand
The truth and its value?

For I can only give
As the only one,
But to be two
I must receive.