If someone were to one day take you from me, It may be days or weeks before anyone hears from me. It's like a beautiful bush of roses, Glorious from the outside, But it has a hidden pain. You try to avoid it by having carefully spaced fingers as to avoid the thorns, Yet the tips of your fingers land on every single one, For these roses of beauty tear you up as they are being ripped from your grasp. Some may get caught and left in the skin, You may try to remove them, Some might get left. Some roses you are handed, God had already whittled away the thorns, Nothing to tear at you once it's gone. If you are here with me to stay, It's like a rose bush has been planted. We can take off and prune from it, For we have love to share, Some may put their flower in water, Others may let it wilt away. But we would keep our bush watered, And nothing can uproot it for it has been planted into the firmest of soils.