An elegant, gorgeous rose is a gift, I have long dreamed of.
A flower so precious, so beautiful, a thousand hearts it could capture at once.
Its petals are a vibrant, glowing shade of red
and to touch these very petals would serve to soften even the most hardened of hearts.
A graceful fragrance flows freely from its core causing smiles to form,
causing souls to laugh.
This subtle, delicate, but powerful rose contains within, the gifts of life, of love, of hope, of happiness.
I have for so many nights dreamed of such a lovely gift;
a gift, I would have no other choice than to share with the rest of this world.
A flower so full of love and caring it could turn any tears to smile, any grief to hope.
To simply be in the presence of such a special rose would cause spirits to rise,
and cause the soul to sing out.
Such a rare gift, one even the angels and gods would be jealous of,
for even their love could not fathom such a flower.
Oh, how I have longed for such a rose, how I’ve toiled at night, reaching, dreaming for this flower.
I often call out with a loud, maddening voice, “Where are you O’rose, where are you O’flower?”
And I always receive the same answer, a sweet, precious voice replies,
“I am right here silly boy, now go back to sleep.”
Her voice slowly fades out, as I close my eyes to rest, but before I can
a gentle, playful smile sneaks onto my face and I whisper softly, “My rose, my rose, I found my rose.”