A rose like a woman,
Is beauty to see.
In the early morning light,
They set your soul free.
The petals slowly open,
So shy and demure.
The secrets of both,
Mysterious and obscure.
And though their beauty,
Sometimes vanity feeds,
The thorns they possess,
Will make you cry and bleed.
3/29/11 Alton Texas
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem