IN ENGLISH   |   EN ESPAÑOL   |   EM PORTUGUÊSryanrowe.com - carpe diem.
STORIES   |   PHOTOS   |   FORUM   |   DREAMCATCHER   |   ABOUT

 

 

 

LOVE LIKE YOU'VE NEVER BEEN HURT

comments   |   photos   |   other articles


 

Articles

Passion Vs Patience

Are You Sure You Know How To Kiss?

Face Your Fears.  Live Your Dreams.


 


 

DO SOULMATES EXIST?
How do you know when you've found yours?
Got a story to share?

Please note: Some of the selections below were written by someone else, and were found in the public domain. If you are the author or know who is, please let me know.

 


Suggested by Chris (good friend of Josh Bernatchez), on or around February 20th, 2006:

Break a vase, and the love that reassembles the fragments is stronger than that love which took its symmetry for granted when it was whole.

- Derek Walcott -


Trois allumettes une à une allumées dans la nuit
La première pour voir tes yeux
La seconde pour voir ta bouche
La dernière pour voir ton visage

Et l'obscurité toute entière
Pour me rappeler tout cela
En te serrant dans mes bras.

Jacques Prévert - Paris at Night


Once in a lifetime,
it takes a minute to meet someone,
an hour to get to know the person
and a lifetime to forget.

Author & Title Unknown


Cuando te conocí
Tuve miedo de mirarte
Cuando te miré
Tuve miedo de hablarte
Cuando te hablé
Tuve miedo de quererte
Cuando te quise
Tuve miedo de amarte
y ahora que te amo
tengo miedo de perderte.

Author & Title unknown


THE ROSE


Red roses were her favorites, her name was also Rose.
And every year her husband sent them, tied with pretty bows.
The year he died, the roses were delivered to her door.
The card said, "Be my Valentine", like all the years before.
Each year he sent her roses, and the note would always say,
"I love you even more this year, than last year on this day.
My love for you will always grow, with every passing year."
She knew this was the last time that the roses would appear.
She thought, he ordered roses in advance before this day.
Her loving husband did not know, that he would pass away.
He always liked to do things early, way before the time.
Then, if he got too busy, everything would work out fine.
She trimmed the stems, and placed them in a very special vase.
Then, sat the vase beside the portrait of his smiling face.
She would sit for hours, in her husband's favorite chair.
While staring at his picture, and the roses sitting there.
A year went by, and it was hard to live without her mate.
With loneliness and solitude, that had become her fate.
Then, the very hour, as on Valentines before,
The doorbell rang, and there were roses, sitting by her door.
She brought the roses in, and then just looked at them in shock.
Then, went to get the telephone, to call the florist shop.
The owner answered, and she asked him, if he would explain,
Why would someone do this to her, causing her such pain?
"I know your husband passed away, more than a year ago,"
The owner said, "I knew you'd call, and you would want to know.
The flowers you received today, were paid for in advance.
Your husband always planned ahead, he left nothing to chance.
There is a standing order, that I have on file down here,
And he has paid, well in advance, you'll get them every year.
There also is another thing, that I think you should know,
He wrote a special little card...he did this years ago.
Then, should ever I find out that he's no longer here,
That's the card...that should be sent, to you the following year."
She thanked him and hung up the phone, her tears now flowing hard.
Her fingers shaking, as she slowly reached to get the card.
Inside the card, she saw that he had written her a note.
Then, as she stared in total silence, this is what he wrote...
"Hello my love, I know it's been a year since I've been gone,
I hope it hasn't been too hard for you to overcome.
I know it must be lonely, and the pain is very real.
For if it was the other way, I know how I would feel.
The love we shared made everything so beautiful in life.
I loved you more than words can say, you were the perfect wife.
You were my friend and lover, you fulfilled my every need.
I know it's only been a year, but please try not to grieve.
I want you to be happy, even when you shed your tears.
That is why the roses will be sent to you for years.
When you get these roses, think of all the happiness,
That we had together, and how both of us were blessed.
I have always loved you and I know I always will.
But, my love, you must go on, you have some living still.
Please...try to find happiness, while living out your days.
I know it is not easy, but I hope you find some ways.
The roses will come every year, and they will only stop,
When your door's not answered, when the florist stops to knock.
He will come five times that day, in case you have gone out.
But after his last visit, he will know without a doubt,
To take the roses to the place, where I've instructed him,
And place the roses where we are, together once again.

Sometimes in life, you find a special friend;
Someone who changes your life just by being part of it.
Someone who makes you laugh until you can't stop;
Someone who makes you believe that there really is good in the world.
Someone who convinces you that there really is an unlocked door just waiting for you to open it.
This is Forever Friendship.

Author unknown





John Blanchard stood up from the bench, straightened his Army uniform,
and studied the crowd of people making their way through Grand Central
Station.
He looked for the girl whose heart he knew, but whose face he didn't,
the girl with the rose. His interest in her had begun thirteen months
before in a Florida library. Taking a book off the shelf he found
himself intrigued, not with the words of the book, but with the notes
penciled in the margin. The soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul
and insightful mind. In the front of the book, he discovered the
previous owner's name, Miss Hollis Maynell. With time and effort he
located her address. She now lived in New York City.
He wrote her a letter introducing himself and inviting her to
correspond. The next day he was shipped overseas for service
in World War II. During the next year and one month the two grew to know
each other through the mail. Each letter was a seed falling on a
fertile heart. A romance was budding. Blanchard requested a photograph,
but she refused. She felt that if he really cared, it wouldn't matter
what she looked like. When the day finally came for him to return from
Europe, they scheduled their first meeting - 7:00 PM at the Grand
Central Station in New York. "You'll recognize me," she wrote, "by the
red rose I'll be wearing on my lapel." So at 7:00 he was in the station
looking for a girl whose heart he loved, but whose face he'd never seen.
I'll let Mr. Blanchard tell you what happened:

A young woman was coming toward me, her figure long and slim.
Her blonde hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears; her eyes were
blue as flowers. Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness, and in her
pale green suit she was like springtime come alive. I started
toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was not wearing a
rose. As I moved, a small,provocative smile curved her lips. "Going my
way, sailor?" she murmured. Almost uncontrollably I made one step closer
to her, and then I saw Hollis Maynell. She was standing almost directly
behind the girl. A woman well past 40, she had graying hair tucked
under a worn hat.. She was more than plump, her thick-ankled feet
thrust into low-heeled shoes. The girl in the green suit was walking
quickly away. I felt as though I was split in two, so keen was my
desire to follow her, and yet so deep was my longing for the woman whose
spirit had truly companioned me and upheld my own.
And there she stood. Her pale, plump face was gentle and
sensible, her gray eyes had a warm and kindly twinkle. I did not
hesitate. My fingers gripped the small worn blue leather copy of the
book that was to identify me to her. This would not be love, but it
would be something precious, something perhaps even better than love, a
friendship for which I had been and must ever be grateful. I squared my
shoulders and saluted and held out the book to the
woman, even though while I spoke I felt choked by the bitterness of
my disappointment. I'm Lieutenant John Blanchard, and you must be Miss
Maynell. I am so glad you could meet me; may I take you to dinner?" The
woman's face broadened into a tolerant smile. "I don't
know what this is about, son," she answered, "but the young lady
in the green suit who just went by, she begged me to wear this rose
on my coat. And she said if you were to ask me out to dinner, I
should go and tell you that she is waiting for you in the big restaurant
across the street. She said it was some kind of test!"
It's not difficult to understand and admire Miss Maynell's wisdom.


The true nature of a heart is seen in its response to the unattractive.
"Tell me whom you love," Houssaye wrote, "And I will
tell you who you are."

Author & Title unknown



I think we dream so we don't have to be apart so long.
If we're in each others dreams, we can be together all the time.

Hobbes (of Calvin and ...)

 

 

 TO SEE A LIST OF ALL ARTICLES ON ryanrowe.com, CLICK HERE.

# of dreamers
# of dreamers

ryanrowe.com - carpe diem - have you seized a day lately?
all content & photographs property of
ryanrowe.com
(unless specified otherwise)
© copyright ryanrowe productions 2002-2005
Toronto, Ontario, Canada