Sometimes you come upon a unpicked wild rose
And sometimes you come upon people
Who are beautiful like an unpicked wild rose

There so beautiful and smell so great
But somehow seem much more beautiful
Every time you look at them

And when you come upon a rose that's unpicked
You can't help but want to cut the rose off
And carry it around and show it off

We all know roses have thorns on them
But there so beautiful that you
Must have one for your own

So you try and cut a rose off
And get pricked on your finger
You bleed but you still keep trying

After you get the rose
You run home
To show it off

You eventually get a band-aid to cover the prick
Where the rose bit you
After you take the band-aid off you see the scar

It eventually goes away in time
But you will always remember
Where the rose bit you
But it doesn't stop you
From trying to get another
Beautiful rose

Beth Ann

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-rose-110/