M y love is like a red, red rose
Y oung with the dew-kissed promises of spring.
L aden with unique perfume,
O n a slender stalk it blooms
V ery near the edge of a sunlit garden,
E ndlessly transforming but always the same.
I offer you this rose in hopes that
S someday fields of them will shine.
L oving you turns ugly weeds
I nto rare exotic blossoms that
K iss the summer breezes with their scent
E ven as they wither and turn brown.
A bsolute perfection is my love and this red flower.
R each out and touch this rose I offer-
E very thorn is gentle and not sharp-
D o not fear of hurt from it.
R ather fill your senses with the joy of it,
E ndlessly fresh within your hand, and never
D ying, only changing to become more sweet.
R eceive this gift I bring to you and
O nly let me be that rose
S o that my soul lies in your hand and heart for all
E ternity.
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The title comes from a traditional folk song. The rest of it comes from me.