My Rose...

I awoke to the brightest day
that ever shone,
'twas so fair to see;
for the light came from
a rare and splendid rose,
standing right in front of me.

I'll carry this vision
lovingly in my heart
until the day I die.
And every memory I hold dear
will return with the
light in your eyes.

For thou art my rose,
the flower of my earthly joy,
never to wilt upon the stem;
and I, a mere budding tree
with arms outstretched,
shall ever crave your sunshine in them.