The Saga of Love, A Villanelle
Redder than the rose,
That woolen scarf yearns,
For the sun to caress its body, froze.
But year after year the cold wind blows,
And the winter blues is all it ears,
Prickling its insides like a thorny rose.
Yet, each day its love for the sun grows,
Nevertheless the winter cold returns,
One more time leaving its desires, froze.
But oh, dear scarf! Only those,
As blessed as you finds someone who your beauty adorns,
Just like the pointed needles on a beautiful red rose.
Then one frosty morning when the young scarf chose,
To forego its desire of the summer burns,
Its love was chiseled down on the pages of history, froze.
So who knows?
One pleasant day you might relearn,
Just like the scarf or the lovely red rose,
To embrace the uniqueness of your romance, a saga in time, froze.
Redder than the rose,
That woolen scarf yearns,
For the sun to caress its body, froze.
But year after year the cold wind blows,
And the winter blues is all it ears,
Prickling its insides like a thorny rose.
Yet, each day its love for the sun grows,
Nevertheless the winter cold returns,
One more time leaving its desires, froze.
But oh, dear scarf! Only those,
As blessed as you finds someone who your beauty adorns,
Just like the pointed needles on a beautiful red rose.
Then one frosty morning when the young scarf chose,
To forego its desire of the summer burns,
Its love was chiseled down on the pages of history, froze.
So who knows?
One pleasant day you might relearn,
Just like the scarf or the lovely red rose,
To embrace the uniqueness of your romance, a saga in time, froze.
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