For Whom a Rose is Due

B’side laughing brook, ‘neath yon willow tree,

There flourishes a rose quite exquisite

Shaded away from a summer sun's pree,

Its splendor, a couple did visit.

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The boughs of the willow, guard blooming delight,

From those seeking nature’s repose.

But one day a man with his impish young sprite,

Took refuge, discov’ring the rose.

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A beauty so rare, only one can compare,

His love in his arms now holding

Admiring the bloom, in the safe willow’s lair,

A masterful gift unfolding.

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The man dropped to his knee, and with one simple plea,

Begged her hand in a marriage endeavor,

With an affirmative kiss, oh the joy, oh the bliss,

They would now spend their whole lives together.

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Now the man knew in truth, that the most comely of flow’rs,

Strolled beside, and for her he did fall.

He paused, sprinting, back to the willowy bowers

Plucking the rose for the fairest of all.