Someone once told me I was a Rose among the Daisies
I must have been red, for that is my favorite color
Was the Rose better than the Daisies?
Not so fast a deduction!
It was years before I knew what a rose was worth.
The red of a rose is for love and spirit, fire and passion.
The red of strength, the tenderness of a soft petal.
It stands straight, when the wind blows against the daisies
And protects with every thorn.
It's stem is woody and does not break with a pinch.
When it blooms, it's softness can take away pain, sorrow,
Give joy, passion and love
And when it has passed, and dried, it's memory still lives on,
Pressed between a book.