The Rose

Oh dear rose, nobody knows the nectar you propose, or your sweet scent.

I gently rub and tug your petals that you present.

You are so full in color and innocence.

I press my nose in your soft bulb, and the smell is so pleasant.

I feel your soft petals on my lips as I give you a kiss, and I experience true bliss.

I cannot tighten my grip upon your stem; I do not wish to damage what you represent.

You use your thorns as protection; so I must win you over with my affection.

Such a light complexion; I do admire such perfection.

I could not pluck you from your bush, instead I will stare and make you blush.

I’ve got such a crush.

There is such a portion to choose from but no one has your proportion, so I pick you to gaze upon.