The little rose.

The red rose stands,
before fall's icy chill.
It waits for the spring,
even though the frost will kill.

The wind blows it,
and almost sweeps it away,
but the rose stands tall,
and refuses not to stay.

It seems stubborn,
and you wonder why it won't give up.
That little rose that sits there,
looking sad, blique and beat up.

You tell it to quit.
It's okay if you fall.
You will only come back up,
You will rise up tall.

but that little rose,
it stays in the winter chill,
You wake up in the morning,
to see it vibrant still.

You wonder why that happens,
even through the storms it seems alright.
"Why wouldn't it just give up?" you ask.
Is it really worth the fight?

Spring comes again,
and the rose is still awake.
Even though those bitter winds,
have torn all it's petals away.

You understand later,
why that rose fought till the end,
as the first day of spring comes,
and a couple passes hand in hand.

The man pulls that little rose,
out of it's bed where it lay.
He hands it to the woman beside him,
and tells her what he was meant to say.

You understand now,
what that rose understood.
It knew that if it quit and wilted,
if it had given up when it should,

Then that man wouldn't have that flower there,
to help him say what he meant.
To tell her that he loved her most,
Confidence and help, did that flower leant.

The next time fall rolls around,
and you see a little rose,
fighting for the right to live,
and hoping that it does.

You don't ask why it doesn't quit,
because now you understand,
that love doesn't fall during the storms,
because that is when it really proves it canstand.

It doesn't cower when told to give up,
and it doesn't shrink away from fear.
It rises and takes that harsh, beating wind,
because it knows it's purpose is clear.

If a couple should walk by that road,
and pull it from the ground,
then that little flower, which was there,
let true love be truly be found.