The White Rose Poem by James McLain

Whispers of the sweet rose.
Rose of passion is the bed white is red,
and the white rose breathes of love.
And the white rose where O is the redest of rose is the thorn.
But I the panty cream of the white tender flesh.
The point of the petal where she often comes I stand.
Washed in petals of pink send me the bud of the white rose.
The purity, it has the kiss of my deep wicked craving.
Caught at the edge of the lip for sweet is love.