New love is fragile, gentle, slight,
So tender, like a rose.
When not held down, but nurtured right,
Love's petal quickly grows.
As love advances, thorns spring up;
They choke the tender bud.
Spikes test and try love to break up,
And love succumbs to flood.
True Love, like strong green stalks, it stands
Against what weeds' hands throw.
Instead of cutting Love's strong bands,
The darts make True Love grow.
"Love's like a rose," the poet's say.
'Tis strong, True Love I want, some day.
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