The Enchanted Emerald Rose

The Enchanted Emerald Rose

Beneath the morning’s silver light,
A secret flower came to be,
With emerald leaves and crimson flame,
A bloom that whispered back to me.

Its petals held the colours deep,
Of ancient forests, fire and rain,
As though the earth had dressed itself,
In magic born from joy and pain.

Each tiny drop upon its leaves,
Held fragments of a crystal sky,
Like little stars that had come down,
To rest upon the rose nearby.

No ordinary flower blooms,
With such a strange and wondrous glow,
It seemed to know the hidden things,
That only quiet spirits know.

The green spoke softly of the earth,
The red remembered love’s desire,
The golden edges caught the sun,
And carried whispers made of fire.

Perhaps it grew where wishes sleep,
Where dreams are guarded through the night,
And every thorn was placed with care,
To keep the precious safe from sight.

So if you find this rose one day,
Do not just see its colours bright,
Look deeper where its petals turn,
For magic hides beyond the light.

And should it ever call your name,
When moonlight settles on the ground,
Follow the path its petals make,
For enchanted things are rarely found.