Weeping Rose

Guilded by the garden lie, amongst the emeralds here divine,

And settle down inside the dirt for worth.

Alas my love, your petals shine, as roses in the heart asks why,

And the garden grows in dirt.

I have not kept, but surley wept, the heavens in the clouds.

As fire looms, in the devils bloom and the harps are loud.

Yet angels roam, as tears of frost fall gently still at natures cost.

And love remains but proud.