Oh Rose, why do you blush so?
Are you crimson with shame for the hearts you have broken?
For the words of love over you spoken?
Why do your sanguine petals bloom
So desirably over your thorns?
So that all who try to reach for you feel only pain?
Are you and love but one and the same?
Are you more than just a symbol of desire
Love burns as hot as fire
And fire is as red as your face
Are you all there is to love, or no more than a taste?

Oh rose, why do you wilt so?
Why do your crimson petals fade and fall?
Does love end just the same?
Does desire become no more than a memory
To be buried and forgotten?
Faded and rotten?
Do your flowers drop and leave only your stem
Loaded with thorns
No longer desirable
Your beauty lost, forsworn
Does love grow cold like summer to winter?
Is it a seasonal pleasure?
Never to last forever?

Oh rose, why do you sprout so?
No more than a green shoot,
No trace of the glamour that you will hold
When your crimson petals unfold.
Are you a symbol of hope?
Does new love sprout and grow like you?
No more than a shadow of green against the morning dew
Until you flourish and bloom.
Does love thrive best when it's nurtured?
When it's given room to grow?