I wish I could take this rose
And bottle it up to take it with me.
It’s fragrance reminding me
Who I can be; Who I am.

When my blood turns black
And my soul is wilted
When my skin is pale
And my heart defenseless

I could remember my rose.
Then my weary roots could soak up its life.

My blood would turn scarlet
And my soul would stand tall
My cheeks would be rosy
and my heart defended by thorns.

If I had this rose with me
In every dark hour
I could always face life
With color, strength and power.