Aphrodite’s Passion

He stood framed against the sunset

Surrounded by the stones, the seeing stones

Tears ran down his face

That turned to silver as they fell upon the ground

In his hands was a rose as white as snow

The rose that must be red

Or his love will always be lost

The rose which he had taken far and wide

Searching for a way,

Asking Magicians, Knights, Poets and Adventurers

None held the answer but his own hands

His grip tightened upon the rose

And the thorns took blood

The blood stained the rose bright crimson

And so his love returned together they stood

They stood framed against the sunset

Surrounded by stones, the seeing stones

Of love