The scent of a rose… its jewellery.
The redness… not an omen but goodwill.
The thorns…like the obstacles of life,
protecting from the bad… giving it strength.
The petals…like the fragments of life,
beauty lies in not one but all, being together.
The seeds…like the harbinger of a new life,
carrying the goodness for generations to come.
Life is like an aging rose,
withering by as evil grows…
Its death paves a new way,
for the seeds to make hay…