The last rose of summer rests in my palm
Each crimsoned petal tranquil and calm
Sweet bite of thorns drawing pin pricks of blood
Essance of life adorning bloom from the bud
Something beautiful by a bit of me stained
To hold it a moment longer I'm willingly drained
Petals of white, to scarlet I lovingly turn
To understand its beauty, I silently yurn
Barbs of ecstacy puncture my hands
As I try to feel more, to meet its demands
The rose it becomes me, my body my soul
The rose is in you,your beauty your whole
