How come the Rose spared in the void of its death?
How come the still Rose utter “I love you” in a sinister set,
Is it true that the Rose is where true beauty resides?
Perhaps one should respond this moment,
Or will one accept a truth that resists their belief?
Either mean doesn’t cover what I glimpse,
A fine bird perhaps – maybe the most gripping,
And I adore her further if rain pours.
Whether my view be entire,
I swear she’s beautiful,
so is it true that the Rose is where true beauty resides?
I dare say not, for I have taken the monarch beauty.