Flowers And Houseboats Poem by Mark. A Heathcote

Egos, they'll grow like daisies in the corn.
But if your love be pure, true in its throes
The bonds we make won't be careworn.
If our love, opening, grows into a rose
All our nemeses will perish and run in fear.
There'll be corn circles in our hearts, but
Don't be too forlorn; your heart won't sear.
There'll still be a rose in that desert scrub.
It'll open a vein of gold rooted in love.
That runs so deep through the core of your soul
Eternity rubs its eyes and gulps.
To see such untold riches quadruple.
But lovers forget and leave their outposts.
Drift apart like separate houseboats.