sometimes love

Love is bittersweet, but it is love.

Sometimes love withers on like, an unfolding lotus.

It can be poor like a shoot growing beneath a cobbled stone.

Can be like the innocence of spring, and as melancholic autumn.

Maybe lavish like a meadow then vanish during the wicked winter.

Even as immense and towering like a forest of narra trees.

Or it can be like a modest bamboo dancing in the wind.

Some I find it like a willow tree, silent, unrequited and lonely.

There is bountiful rose garden yet surrounded with thorns.

And can be as great like the gallant mountain there could ever be.

As vast as the ocean can go, however fast as the fickle waves in the beach.

There are times that it's like a river,

Flowing and will never know when to part ways.

There is a love grandiose yet bound to fall.

There are also love exquisite yet fragile as a glass.

And times like a symphony of music that's out of tune.

It can be like clouds in the sky that only passes by;

Or a star far, mysterious and beautiful.

It can be lustful, like fire spreading from bush to bush.

Can be a fascinating, love that move like snail on the edge of a pond.

Yet it is still love.