An English Rose

A pretty little rose grew in the ground,
Under the sun where it’s beauty could be found,
To only be destroyed by the humans that lived nearby,
Because they wanted more from that sun in the sky,

Another rose grew where the mother plant stood,
When a young English rose with a heart so good,
Found herself lost in its beauty and grace,
The beauty of the rose could only be compared to the beauty of her face,

But soon a boy, a boy came along,
And sang her a melancholy song,
The love quickly flowed from him to her,
No longer the rose, now the boy she did prefer,

The boy and the girl left the flower all alone,
Still small and frail despite how much it has grown,
But loneliness meant that it could grow stronger here on,
Now that it’s lonely, and everything’s gone,

The young girl and the boy came back one day,
And the loneliness of the flower soon went away,
But the boy picked the flower and gave it to the girl with a ring,
With the power of the rose their love could be engaging,

That pretty little rose once grew in the ground,
Under the sun it’s beauty and that of another’s was found,
To only be destroyed by the boy who picked it for love,

No flowers grow there anymore thereof,