Red rose in repose

OH rose of blood red, bloom in your bed,

Growing swiftly and tall.

As you reach for the stars,

Beseeched near and far,

Your beauty is pure and true as you are.

Grow with the love, in memory of,

The golden hot sun in skies from above,

And smoky grey clouds, whisping away.

And boisterous crowds, wanting to stay.

Near to my heart, your thorns all but dull,

No blood from my finger, on the stem my hand lingers,

To pick your essence so full, and your thorns and your stingers.

Your time on this earth, had all of its worth,

Your sight and your scent of love it was meant

To fill in a void, cast from the lost,

The souls of the earth, each breath but a cost.

So humbly I seek, a fragrance of cheek,

And bleed upon sight of your beauty just right.

Bring me your gift, as I pick u and sift,

Through tears of my sorrow, your beauty i borrow.

Until I am fed, from your petals of red.

And replant your dry roots,

And all of your fruits, tasteless but sweet,

In the garden we meet, with both eyes yet closed,

But a soul full of rose, with all its repose.