The Rose
THE ROSE
A little red rose signifies no blood, no pain,
Its immaculate fragrance, beckons bees, insane.
Unknown to the carrier, it touches hearts, pollen,
And fans out into the world, with life’s song, regain.
The search for new pastures end on a seed,
As a source for a sprout, in a worldly breed,
Into a new plant where a bud is born,
Fresh gems of dewdrops in the early morn,
With time it blooms into a flower of grace,
In the continuance of a sustenance race.
The beauty needs protection from lurking creed,
It builds thorns that pierce greed,
With elegance and poise of a princess she stand,
A symbol of love, in no-man’s land!
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