Great love carries great sorrow
upon its back,
When you have everything,
Then, you will find something you lack.
He is gentler than a warm summer breeze,
but remember, you are fragile; easy to crack.
And if the breeze should ever a storm brew,
He could turn your sky from azure to melancholy black.
You are the most beautiful love song,
but melodies end, and stories can fade into a yellowing paperback.
Then how do you preserve your love
like the fragrance of cinnamon on the old spice rack?
Sweet, comforting, warm always,
Never surprising you, never cruelly taking you aback.
"You can't," she said,
She said, "You must trust that love is not a one way track."
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