This very Rose before you, my loving honest friend,
will tell you of how such beauty becomes real
and whether it lives or dies, upon
your judgements it depends,

for this ivory Rose was crafted
from a single feather of a ****** Dove
that was birthed, and blessed
by our mighty father up above,
kissed with evanescent lips dripping
caught from the valley of dreams,
the fountain of Aphrodite, where it was slowly sipping,

plucked gently from its graceful wings,
the feather, comforted and stroked
transformed into a seed by his loving hands,
where-upon he strolled into the vast and hazardous deserts,
buried its precious life in the sands -

and of all the names should he pick,
it was yours that he saw,
your maiden name that influenced what he chose,
for this very flower was created just for you,
my love, my sweet Eleanor Rose.