The crimson Rose
The morning dew settles on the crimson Rose.
It's each petal so delicate yet so brave and bold.
The freshness spreads.
It lures the divine, the layman and the evil alike.
Powerless in front of the sweet divine.
It's thorns , the path to bittersweet paradise.
Where gloomy souls find no place to hide.
No evil has place as saint disguised.
The crimson Rose, my Father's delight.