My love is a pure white rose
with a single shining thorn.
To her belongs my heart and soul
and my every waking morn.
If I could only tell her
and proclaim my love aloud,
Then we might make the sky our home
and we’d sleep upon some cloud.
But if her heart did differ
and her thorn took mine to spear,
Then that white rose would stain blood red
and my heart would bleed red tears.
Now that’s a risk I’d embrace
if she’d give just one clear sign;
A nodding smile or a glancing touch
just to say that she’d be mine.