I'll only get better,
growing old with you.
It's Love and a Rose both growing,
between many summers, it's fall
and springing up again.
You and I are just a bloom.

I am Love and you my Rose,
amongst the prettiest flowers,
I picked you out hiding in the shade.
As I held you in hand,
I felt your blossom.

As did I pick into my thoughts,
your sharp thorns picked into my heart.

As did the rain fall,
I too did fall.
As Love I've searched for growth,
and as Love I poured down myself onto you,
And it showed me worth.

As a Rose,
you found aid in my hand.
For as a Rose you're a beauty
looking for someone to dearly care of you.
For if True Love fails to pick you,
Love has failed at it's task.

And if man is too afraid to search
for love and their Rose,
They too have failed at their task.