SENSES Once touched as a rose, So delicate and sweet, Too late to learn that thorns could breech. Once tasted as wine, So savored and rare, Too late found out could spoil without care. Once seen as a prize, For all to behold, Was soon left on a pedastol, out in the cold. Once pleasant as a scent Like a flower in spring, Too soon forgotten to be worth watering. Heard by One, the sadness of me, the hurt, the pain, no joy to see. Again to discover all that was within, the memory, the fear of how it had been. He showed of how life was meant to be The joy, the hope, and love that is true How the rose bloomed with loves tender hand, How wine was to be sampled, by no less than a true man, The prize was mine to give with the greatest of care, And the scent of a woman blooming began to fill the spring air. With senses alive my soul does stir, to the One that heard every painful word Every tear, every thought that crossed its mind No longer there, for it has been left behind