I love roses

 When a rose blooms in late spring
such rapture its flower does bring
the perfection of each beautiful bud
colorful delight my senses flood

Her young form tender and firm
The sun's warmth floral trust dost confirm
Gently she lowers her vested petals
Nakedly exposed on soft leaves she settles 

With winter winds her blooms are dropped
Stands stem of thorns, in ragged age topped
Dried and hardened stripped of leaves
For lost beauty a flower's admirer grieves