Like a rose she smells so sweet,
but the petals fall as winter meets.

Cause right now there's a timely snow,
oh how I wish her love would hold.

The pretty rose buried below,
and now my heart seems oh so cold.

Knowing that her love has froze,
leaving colored rose of dull.

The scary thing to feel inside
is when the sun shines bright outside.

Will this rose from that sun hide?

Has the love just gone and died?

Will the sun search higher tides?

To find out why it sets to rise?-JS