Manner of Love

There is a garden full of flowers

Yet one rose is most exquisite

What an admirer will do to that rose?

Cut it and put it in a vase near his table

What will a lover do to that rose?

Smell it, love it and let it be

Love is letting go

And still holding on

Distance, time, money

Are mere numbers

If your love is true

What you love

Will come to you