We want a rose without its thorn
But not without its bloom.
We want a witch without her spells
But not without her broom.
We want to cherry pick our lives
And have someone attend,
Make things easy for us in front,
And clean up our mess behind.

But true roses grow on thorny brush,
And true love grows amidst real life,
With tears and laughter and ease
And strife,
But when you quiet yourself, you'll see,
The still small voice of love
Growing there with you
In the wilderness.

-jenn