Roses born of earth and seed, a sight to gladden any bitter heart. In all my life this truth have I learned, never should the love of a simple rose be spurned.
The perfect and imperfect petals, each grown and nourished at need. All a gift of unique and sublime art, every one made from the Lady’s grace to turn and smile back upon the sun’s shining face.
I’ll take my imperfect roses any day, to charm and and gladden my love in every way, I shall at her feet, all my roses lay.
I’ll take the thorns and petals both, the stems be hard, wooden, a long and hard won growth.
For such is life my dear, perfection merely blinds us to seeing beauty clear.