The Color Red Poem by Herbert Dry

If I should gather flowers I would pick
for you a red rose
Even though hidden behind the flower and
leaves thorns
grow

Am I willing to have my
flesh torn
While picking the rose my skin
penetrated by
thorns

Will I suffer pain for your love
to gain
For me would you do
the same

The color of the rose the color of my
blood are both
red
Should I go where wild flowers grow
where there is nothing
to dread

I cannot knock upon your door with
empty hands no rose's for
you to see
I will endure the thorns a rose for
you it will be