I wished upon a shooting star
to walk about cupid's bower.
To slumber then I had drifted
Dreaming of nothing else.

I awoke to a smell of roses ,
Beautiful luscious ruby coloured roses
Fountains beside spraying about.
Shocked I wondered where I was.

Looking about I asked myself
Is this Love's bower.
To my surprise twas nothing else
A stranger before me stood.


I asked him in a silent way "Kind Sir ! is this your bower I pray".
To which replied he you silly thing
My garden is deep within you


I understood not what he tried to say,
Asked I again where am I then..
I wondered deep within is this Love's lair .
Does he deceive me, pondering still arose I then.

This bower you claim is it not your own,
Then who is Lord of the rose blossom there .
Is that not your flower I said.
This stranger smiled at me without a care.

I stood to face him confused inside.
Look thither whose bird is that said I
Is it not a nightingale.
The bird of love.

I wondered who this stranger was,
A deceiver presumed I then ,
I quietened my inner soul and
gazed upon his rosy face.

A smile he then showed me,
Gazing upon him
I wondered still .
Who this is.

I pondered upon his traits I saw,
Patience, Virtue and Kindness.
These three saw I .
Its sudden realisation hit me so.

These three made a rhyme I knew
Love is patient,
Love is kind ,
Love is simply virtue defined.

This stranger now a stranger no longer.
Twas Love himself who stood by me.
I kissed his hand with tender affection
He vanished then before my eyes.

It struck me now,
Love is within not without.
Bowers none had he but only a passionate soul.

I awoke from my slumber
or so I thought .
The bower I saw was just a dream.
When I had arisen ,
Beside me there ,
was a gentle rose without a care.


























© Mr.Draper