My Love is a Rose

Just thinking of her. I wanted to go for more of a classic feel to this poem, more like a Robert Frost, or Sir Walter Scott.

My love s a rose,

Which blooms and grows,

In the song of the breeze,

O'er the brook in the meadows.

My love is a flower, 

With soft beauty her power,

Capturing my heart,

Hour by hour.

My love is the rose,

And I her thorns,

 to protect her from crows,

and life's harsh wind which blows.

She is a treasure,

Surpassing all measure,

My source,

My unending pleasure.

My love s a rose,

Which blooms and grows,

In the song of the breeze,

O'er the brook in the meadows.