Ruth Is The Rose That Blushes Still

In a garden where the sun would rise, There bloomed a rose with gentle eyes, Her petals soft, a crimson thrill, She was Ruth, the rose that blushes still. Her color bright, a fervent red, With every dawn, her beauty spread, Though time would pass and seasons sway, Her blush remained, as night turned day. The winds would blow, the rains would fall, Yet Ruth stood proud, defying all, Her fragrance sweet, a lingering grace, A timeless charm, no years could erase. And though the world around her changed, Her tender hue was not estranged, For in her heart, a love so pure, Kept her blushing, forever sure. So in that garden, she remains, A rose untouched by time’s refrains, A symbol of a steadfast will, Dear Ruth, the rose that blushes still.