ROSES

I know it's classical,

Traditional to love roses,

But somethings never gets old.

The narrow stem shows the rough path,

Moving through all the poisonous thorns,

With all your might and finally,

Blooming in a multitude of colours,

There rests the most beautiful crown atop,

I like you best in pink.

White is always beautiful,

Making people fall even harder,

As your crown grew wider,

Unraveling each of the mysteriously layered petals,

Cheeks blushing in pink,

At the sight of the sun.

I cannot leave the friend all through this journey unmentioned,

How the leaves turn red hinting at your success,

It's hard to love the ordinary that goes unnoticed.

I thank the One high above all,

Who is the best portrayer of colours and beauty.