It is late, I am tired and supposedly it my day for posting. So, I delve once more into an old and nearly forgotten journal of words.
* * * * * *
A handsome young man with raven black hair
Looked up and winked at his lady fair
He beckoned her forward and him to greet
So in the moonlight and secret they’d meet

He flashed his smile and started to say
Speeches of love in a most flowery way

You’re a rose among thornes, all elegance and grace
A beauty before me in this desolate place
Your lips are as red as the reddest red rose
Your features are perfect from eye to nose
You’re as lovely as ever a most wonderous girl
Just as the rose is Queen in the flowery world

He went on and on for quite some time
Compairing his lady with roses in rhyme
Finally she turned to him and said
But sir this is winter and the roses are dead