Shall I write for you a letter
so painfully written with my teary ink?
Or pluck a forlorn rose for you?
Its red as deep as my ocean of love.
Does the smile that on my face rest
tell you that there’s a garden in my heart?
Pray, will our intertwined love in the linen
bear the promise of an eternity together?
Oh my love, my lover, my love,
your love is reason alone to live.
Then letters I will carve in this world,
To know but one will reach your eye.
And bring you a rose on the lap of the earth
Un-plucked, un-forlorned, it shall never die.
I will water the garden in my heart
with love that’s there for me to take.
And forbid the sun its garish entry
when the moon bathes over us at night.