The red rose stands, a symbol of pure grace,
Its petals like velvet, soft to embrace.
With colors so vivid, in hues of deep red,
It whispers of passion, where love has been said.
Each thorn it carries reminds of the cost,
For beauty and love, something must be lost.
Yet still, it blooms in the garden of light,
A beacon of hope in the quiet of night.
The fragrance it gives is both sweet and bold,
A timeless tale of love, forever told.
