Tis the rose that wants to live
That rails against the frost,
Tightly closed, the petals warm
The autumn heart that summer lost.
The dew that drips from rose to leaf
Like tears from cheek to breast,
Once was cold, now shimmers warm
To earn, at last, its' rest.
The blackened bud, once struck with cold
Appears to others dead,
But burns within, a passionate soul,
And heart of bright and crimson red.
And bursting forth it cannot hide
The will to live within,
Its' bold and subtle softness tells
Persistent hearts can win.