The rose, not far from it's end, is suddenly noticed by me.
The rose and I have played, a while, now, at last, I give, to the seduction.
It is the rose, but why did I find it burning.
The rose will twist and turn,the presentation of an invite.
Rose petals, like layered kisses.How many kisses do I give?
Little wild rose, gathers the day.I find nothing humble about you.
The rose is just quite there. Leave it be to it's own ruin.
The rose gathers the light.It can remind the shadows.
Rose, waits in the sun light,hoping you take the invitation.
