Sea of Roses
I gaze upon a sea of roses,
That paint the valley green,
But I see the weed that poses
As grass in beauty serene.
Red roses soar, ‘bove the hills
And not daisies nor the nettles,
Can distract from the frills
Of the sweet, sweet rose petals.
But pale roses bound,
In bands so, so tight,
‘Till the poor stems sound,
Cries of woe and cries of spite.
The sun has come, yet still they weep,
Their petals stained with fleeting pain,
But through the earth, their roots run deep,
And soon they rise to bloom again.
And so the sun sings in the skies,
And bathes the land from black’ned lies.
Once more I gaze upon the sea,
And not a single weed I see.
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