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We Called It Love By Elisabetta Panzica Delicate, beautiful rose buds shiver in the cool of morning As their sweet fragrance sweeps across our consciousness Trying to awaken a deeper memory within us Of a timeless imprint of long forgotten days Plastered upon our hearts It lies dormant now … Yet there is a familiarity about it A wanting to recall … to remember This wondrous thing, this intangible object Droplets of dew begin to form Upon a solitary rose In distinguished beauty she displays the passions of the heart Beginning to recall, to recapture the very essence Of a memory forgotten She opens up from the inside And blossoms to bring forth The rarest of all gifts We gave it a name We called it love.
Wisdom’s Quest 