In a world full of people

so lost in the fight

I’ve not met another like you,

who midst all the crowd

stands out in the night…

as the white rose of all that is true.

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A life sustained by water pure,

yet marred by memory of the wine.

Like fragrant waft of soft allure

diminished not by hands of time.

Forever clear the water streams,

yet never ends the draw to wine.

Forever helpless so all seems

to purge the memory from my mind.

Though water's healing - ever constant,

soft and clean and unaware

how often it hath quenched my ...

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