Love is quite delicious, love smells so fine,
love is the ripest, right off of the vine.
Love is a sensation, a taste of good wine,
an intoxicating feeling…come sample mine.
Polishing love takes patience and time,
if the luster is lost, the ap-peel loses shine.
Love can sprout up and blossom so fast,
it feels like spring, but an illusion is cast.
Love has many colors, shapes and sizes,
the seeds we plant, bring many surprises.
The fruit of our loins, the children we’ve had,
come to bear, by breeding, a Mom and Dad.
Love can turn sour or bitter to the taste,
bruising is a sign, the fruit’s gone to waste.
Sometimes the love that we fruit can die,
for only certain fruits, make a good pie.
Books have been written, to make love last,
just take it slow and easy… then go real fast.
One recipe for love, you may find to be true,
if you want some cake, you must eat it too!
When the time is right, for natures delight,
we unveil our blossoms, for one special night.
Sometimes to make love, requires some spice,
gently stirring the senses, will usually suffice.
A garden needs water and sunshine to grow,
without it, we can’t harvest the seeds we sow.
If love is to blossom and come to full bloom,
remember to remove the fruit of the loom.