Sometimes you come upon a unpicked wild rose <br />And sometimes you come upon people <br />Who are beautiful like an unpicked wild rose <br /> <br />There so beautiful and smell so great <br />But somehow seem much more beautiful <br />Every time you look at them <br /> <br />And when you come upon a rose that's unpicked <br />You can't help but want to cut the rose off <br />And carry it around and show it off <br /> <br />We all know roses have thorns on them <br />But there so beautiful that you <br />Must have one for your own <br /> <br />So you try and cut a rose off <br />And get pricked on your finger <br />You bleed but you still keep trying <br /> <br />After you get the rose <br />You run home <br />To show it off <br /> <br />You eventually get a band-aid to cover the prick <br />Where the rose bit you <br />After you take the band-aid off you see the scar <br /> <br />It eventually goes away in time <br />But you will always remember <br />Where the rose bit you <br />But it doesn't stop you <br />From trying to get another <br />Beautiful rose<br /><br />Beth Ann<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-rose-110/
