No flowers are as lovely as the rose

With its curled petals and colors so fair.

The other flowers watch it as it grows,

To watch the blooming of this flower rare.

The rose's beauty is one to marvel;

It is one to spark disdainful envy.

Contempt, hatred spreads like sickness viral

But for nothing as you shall surely see.

For just as quickly as the rose has bloomed,

The scarlet petals crinkle up and dry

And fall, one-by-one, losing their perfume.

And then the rose, now weak and ugly, dies.

     Like the rose, every morning the day dawns,

     But then Time passes by, and it is gone.