Ode to the Black Rose

Sat, 08/04/2018 - 12:41 -- Quota

On a cold, dreary night

That frightened the dead

I found you, black rose

In a garden of red

 

You were never perfect

With many a thorn

But you’ve always been lovely.

From the day you were born

 

I tend to think of you

In my free hours

And always wonder

How weak roots make such beautiful flowers

 

But your stems have strength

And your petals withstand harsh wind

Oh I love you, black rose

May your youth never end

 

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