The Red Rose

The last star twinkled

Fading into the night

A solitary sentinel

Waiting for the first dawn light

The last petal fell

The darkness had grown

Those it had touched

Felt suddenly alone

But the rose was a power

That reached into your heart

Its a lingering perfume

That won't depart

Its colour is blood

And blood is the tie

But the bonds are a blessing

That none would deny

A rose bud is hope

Its promise is life

but its petals are closed

its secrets bound tight

A rose is a bush

a vine and a tree

its a climber, a rambler

a wanderer free

Its proper and perfect

a civilised plant

its pagan and passion

the heart of the dance

Its thorns are a weapon

that scratched very few

its thorns were a shield

a gift from you

The stars have stopped twinkling

the dawn has arrived

but the rose and its perfume

are a gift that survive