A rose she stands, so soft, so bright,
Knowing well the coming night —
The winds will tear, the storm will rise,
And close forever her gentle eyes.

Yet still she blooms without regret,
Her petals kissed by sun still wet —
She lives for love, she sways with grace,
And meets her end with a quiet face.

Not fearing loss, nor fighting fate,
She fills her hours, though brief, though late —
With peace, with hope, with colors spun,
And love — until her days are done.