Ode to a Lady

My lady is a timid rose,
So sweet and strong and free.
She offers me sublime repose;
Returns my soul to me.

A fragrance that denotes so much
Softly comes my way.
She never uses words as such,
We sense; no need to say -

- to what degree we are entangled,
Vines along one stem.
Once held notions have been angled,
We vow to not condemn.

Her garden is my sphere of love,
A refuge from all gloom.
Scarlet petals rain from above
And kiss my former doom.