From bud to bloom, she rose, a crimson-thorned caress,
A beauty fierce, yet veiled in softest dress.
Her boughs unfurled, a fragrant invitation,
To passing souls who dreamt of sweet elation.

Some, blind to ******, reached for her tempting glow,
Their careless touch, a secret thrill, a flow
Of smiles unguarded, petals gently pressed,
A tender dance beneath the moonlit crest.

But as the moon waned, shadows lengthened deep,
The vibrant bloom began to gently sleep.
Exposed and bare, she rested on the ground,
Her beauty's peak a memory profound.

Yet, in that stillness, wisdom did entwine,
A strength unveiled, a grace that would define
Her journey onward, bathed in morning's light,
A rose reborn, more radiant and bright.
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI