What a glorious flower
To be named just a Rose
The name gives it color
And pleases the nose

It's yellow, it's red
Any color you please
It's hybrid or wild
And still picked by bees.

Poems are written
About the sweet rose
And songs are sung sweetly
And tears cried to those.

So with wet in my eyes
And scents that surround
I wish this for you
A Rose for your ground.

© Quiet1

2nd November 2003

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