A rose of only the purest white

can symbolize the way I feel.  The Rose

is so pristine and elegant.

In early springtime, the Rose grows

from a pod filled with vibrant life

and color, into the sweetest heart

of all.  So small, but yet so large.  Tiny

miracles of life lay under each petal, folded

into each niche and crevasse.

As time and nature roll forward, the Rose

slowly grows into an adult.  As the petals

unfold, they release the miracles the Rose

holds within.  Its virgin white color enlightens

the world with cheer and gives the world with

cheer and gives the world a symbol of love.

As the seasons change from the warm to the cold,

the Rose sadly dies.  Its color slowly darkens

as its petals die and fall away.  Its stem begins

to wilt as the Rose withers away.  Only to be

forgotten until the following May.