The Lady of the Rose

A beauty so often overlooked,
the sweetest fragrance of her innocence.
A form of beauty, she gets you hooked,
thorns around her live the rarest essence.

She grows so perfectly, we admire
her petals unfold, growing so very sweet.
Gifts for your other whose love burns like fire.
The thorns along with she makes her complete.

He who may want her must respect the thorns,
flowers may fall but the thorns remain.
Take time to cherish the smell she adorns,
without a touch to a thorn giving pain.

A beautiful creation of pure joy
with respect is lovely to enjoy.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem