Pride Cannot Make Love Poem by Sandra Dodd

If I wish to know the heart
of whom I love to touch,
I must heed when the bugle blows
calling to forgive, be forgiven.
Essential to show my heart
behind the walls it lives.
Falling crumbling, like Jericho
never to be raised again.
I must call in the army,
welcome the invasion,
of my hearts fortress.

A flower will bloom
season after season
ever giving a chance,
abstained from previous,
to breathe the fresh scent
of its transcendent bloom.
Forgiveness offered
an aromatic blossom,
making love authentication
of its native beauty.
Though season after season
I not having bowed to sniff
its aromatic powers,
I seems to have wasted
a lovers bouquet.

If I see yesterdays & tomorrows
dung under the new morning dew,
amorousness will not be brought
resurging my spirit to yours
at day break.
Love keeps no account of wrongs
never a verse truer.
You give me reasons to excuse
what imperfections you hold,
but I hold them still.
I wish to have a weakness
for your heart as I do your body
See only the dew of each day.
I forgive what lived before,
live today.