If today was a new day,
It would still be shaped by yesterday,
So why was yesterday so good,
And yet today is full of enmity,
'Morrow is a thing so empty,
Full of nightmares,
Or full of fantasy and dreams,
Hither is a flowered lady,
Petals cover porcelain facet,
Rosebud anew should be so red,
Turned black by foreign handler,
Revived with expert care,
Red rose blossoms,
With her home so dark,
Yet filled with light,
Lovers hand cares so gently,
Yet love drives lust,
Shown in hearts quick patter,
My sweetheart lover,
My honey from sing of bee,
Quick to care and water,
Slow to strip the full flowers petals,
Encases her in gold and varnish,
Forever love so specially encased,
No other touch shall wilt her petals,
For his makes her grow so green,
Hold her, says he, who cares for the rose,
So sweet she is,
Others touch turns her bitter.