My love is like a red red rose

I’ve been having this debate with others and myself. Trying to capture ‘love’ or the meaning of the word. Can it be a dusky red rose in bloom with a deep sweet scent? With time the blossom droops and falls. What’s next? How do you hold on to this flowering. If you switch the rose with a misty red grape then you could pick it, trample and ferment it to make a bottle of wine. But a glass of wine is also finite and transitory.

No, it seems that the way to taste true love down through the years must be to focus on the plant – the rose bush or the vine; ‘to till, dress and cultivate’ … The Shorter Oxford English Dictionary defines this as ‘husbandry’ and ‘a man joined to a woman in marriage’ as a ‘husband’.

Every plant has its optimum environment and how many of us have green fingers?
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