When each rose has sprouted from the earth its quest for beauty rises with it

The stems will rise for foundations to be set for what we all came to see materialize

The buds will start as the small green pocket

And the riches will be devoured from the soil for our eyes to bear witness of beauty

When the rain falls upon the leaves to quench thirst it will tear

It will scar, but it will not destroy

Eventually the process will finish and the fantastic colors will show

The petals shall be soft and vibrant

However their stems will remain stiff and thorned

But at this moment a tender hand may maneuver their fingers into the fractures along the stalk to gently hold it up to themselves so that 2 separate entities shall both see beauty in danger- and pain

The rose now has become more than the humble flower

It shall follow the tender hand through the owner’s life and loves

Through the sincerest gratitude and solemn condolences    

much like the flower we start as the humble bud standing on the shoulders of support

endure the rain of life ripping upon our leaves and use the drowning water to rise

Draw from the soil of our experience to grow

And when all the stars align our inner self bursts in an array of beauty

another’s gentle touch shall move past our thorns

And they shall hold us gently on the path home admiring the gentle thorned  flower that they had found perfect for only them