Would you pick a rose from a garden that's not
yours?
Wouldn't you call it stealing even though it's
just a rose…?
Smelling it doesn't make the farmer annoyed,
Touching it, will stunt its growth.
The farmer planted it on the land he bought,
He watered it, and kept it warm;
Against the wind and rain that usually fell
He worked hard daily and answered its calls
So it's not fair to use it for your joy
If it's the one, take it from his land to yours
care for its purity as what the creator wants.
That if you care for her real joys…
It's not asking much, it's only asking to be secured
It gives its beauty, its body and
even more