There was once this rose, that was black as the night,
A delicate rose, its heart as bleak to give a fright.
Its best friend was the snow upon a rough and mean mountain,
To comfort this rose from the harsh and gripping roots.

Now, the day has breached, the snow hasn't shed a tear just yet,
It cannot leave just yet, it shan't not leave its sweat,
As the mountain rumbles and upturns, a quite mean lil’ fellow,
Why shall the rose leave it to bellow?

Because, you see, the rose’s heart is bleak,
It shall not shed a tear, or send a squeak,
Its peeps shall not hear this poor rose’s weeps.

The snow’s everlasting eyes shall always see the rose’s wilting petals,
As it shrivels and shall not mettle, this poor little rose shall not unsettle.

And thus the rocky mountain, a spirit brutal and vile,
Knocking down the rose with rocks sharp as its smile,
Would he ever feel sorry? Would it never be so hostile?
The rose’s petals keep shredding, its soul is leaving its former colors.

The pretty purples and pinks, oh how the snows remembers,
Of the morning sky, of how the pretty rose would stride,
The chains of the blacks and blues, keeping the black rose in its shoes,
This bright white snow has a job to do.

As the snow piles up upon the mountain’s tiring high peaks,
Its shouts and screams up above its leading celestial sphere,
The sky shall listen, as its strict ice shall scatter down,
“But that shall not do,” the snow sighed, “there must be a different clue,”
As it looks up, and the mountains turn red,

The day is brightening, oh no, not now,
The dear snow can feel its endows scattering about,
But one last look, it seems, this one last move,
As its pores shall leak, a sacrificial approve.

As the waters flow down, upon the mountain’s frown,
The rose stares down, a shocked astound, 
The white was gone, a clear flow runs down.

But, as said, time heals all wounds,
The mountain shall break down, it shall not hurt this rose anymore,
As its red sprouts, as the eager bright blood,
Spring is here, spring has the crown.
The forests shall be prevalent, for this new-bloomed rose’s shall astound with her new gown.