Water, like crystals in the morning sun,
Gather on the petals of the sacred rose.
Do I worship this flower simply for fun?
Or for it's eternal symbolism that we've chose?

I've embraced this "hopeless romantic" ideal,
It's true, I must admit.
I'm nothing without it, to be real,
Only to this and chivalry shall I submit.

The beauty, the love, the grace, all count:
None without the others; all must exist.
For you, they balance out, in large amounts,
Shining like diamonds through the morning mist.

And it calls to me, like nothing else could:
It's the clearest message one can send.
I receive it the way men often don't, but should:
Love needs two for each other's incompletes to mend.