"The red rose whispers of passion,And the white rose breathes of love" Did you know that? No, I said, how do you come up with these things? I don't come up with them, I read them. You know in poetry books. You might try it some time. OK, where did the rose thing come from? You probably think I don't know. Well they are the opening words of "A White Rose" by John Boyle O’Reilly. You should read some poetry. You may discover a romantic heart. She had a devilish grin on her face. She was looking up at me, her brown eyes giggled at me. She wiped the rain drops from her face. Which rose do you like the best? I didn't know. I had never really thought about roses. To me they were just another flower. To her, they were everything. We were standing in the rain, looking into the flower shop window. She loved to walk in the rain. She was born to live in San Francisco. I was just a visitor. I don't like any roses in this rain, I replied. Oh come on you old grump, tell me which one you like the best. She was still looking up at me with her turned up nose and her freckled cheeks. The rain was running down her face. She was smiling. She was my own personal Sun. She created light and warmth on a cold rainy San Francisco evening. OK, if you really need to know, I prefer the red ones. Why? She always had to know why. Never could I be a "just because". I finally replied, I like red because they are prettier and they smell better. Yes, but what about passion and love? Remember "Red is Passion and White is Love". Are you just Passionate for me or do you Love me? Well I know I have a great passion for you. It would be wonderful for your naked body to join my naked body in a nice warm shower. Her eyes sparkled and her devilish grin appeared. Maybe when you learn to love the "White Rose". The fog horn moaned across the bay and my lustful soul moaned in the San Francisco night.