White Rose
A rose is growing close to my front door,
‘tis white with petals folded inward seen.
A lonesome flower wearing nothing more
than thorns well placed amid its leaves of green.
This beauty grows in late cool autumn time
when others fade and leave behind their show.
Alas, a few short weeks will see its prime,
then passing days will be its hurtful foe.
A solitary blossom that's all white
attracts attention I'm now prone to say.
A fragrance sweet from rose is my delight
and for this essence people often pay.
Whatever, rose for me's a welcomed find,
in autumn late a nice surprise of kind.
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