Beyond the sea, a white rose stands
outside a vase, away from hands.
Too pretty for a picture frame,
a large bouquet, or window pane.
Still growing, life is hers to gain:
the warmth of sun, the cooling rain,
the water droplets, oxygen;
beauty will flourish best with space.
A trademark warmth she wears so well
like sun rays on a daffodil.
She laughs like shamrock by the well,
as infectious as a breeze among bluebells.
I see the child inside your cries of joy, behind your smiles at boys.
Beneath the skies, above the noise.
You breathe in life, and it's all yours.