Why would you ever want to let go
Of the rose you hold so dear
Take the time to see its beauty
And know, in your soul,
That it was always worth the thorns

Take the saying to your heart,
“Pain is better than nothing at all”
And remember that even a dying rose
Though brown it may turn,
Is still beautiful when dried just right

You don’t have just one tiny rose
There’s an entire bush, no
An entire field of roses
That require your attention
Though they may not always be red,
but yellow or black instead,
They will love you just as dearly
As the love you show them

Don’t forget, or at least realize
That you too are a rose
Care and water yourself,
Even as your own thorns ***** you
And the ivy of the past climes up to strangle

And as your mind drifts
To that single red rose
Even though you may get pricked
by their ever present thorns
Think of the alternative
Living a life of nothing,
which doesn’t fit you a bit
Live, love, and grow.
It suits you most
My yellow rose