Picture Perfect

My delicate rose,

Oh how it will shine

In the purest of light.

Its petals,

Never wilted,

Still in the warp of time.

Yet its juices,

Of honey,

So tempting,

So bitter.

Always urged,

For the birds to sing,

For the insects to feed.

My delicate rose,

With its sharp thorns,

And bright stem.

Will it be ever lost in time.