• I plucked a thorny rose and held it to my heart
    I prayed my rose would never depart
    I held my rose until she fell apart
    And gazed at petals with which I couldn’t part
    I gathered them in my hands from the ground
    I wept there for them and thought I would drown
    Then I took my wilted petals and looked all around
    Until a safe place I had found
    There I pressed them still and went away
    Thinking of my lost rose every day
    I wondered what I could say
    To make my rose come back to play
    My rose had withered and died
    Left to me was only my pride
    I felt as if before that day I had never cried
    As if my heart wept too the day my rose died
    The thorny stem bites into my hands, deep
    And the blood wells in the wounds as my veins weep
    The only true secrets are the ones our hearts keep
    As in sorrowful moments they seep
    Memories like petals in a mind
    Sometimes tear and sometimes bind
    Give us light when we may be blind
    Bring us answers we otherwise couldn’t find
    I will keep them pressed in my heart
    And hold them tight as tears start
    Days will pass and it will become only another part
    And in this way my rose will never really depart