Another one among my very few optimistic pieces.
When I am blossomed upon this paper,
Do view me with much love.
A fallen petal, a wandering kiss,
The sun's rays travel down my waiting hips.
Hold me up by the stalk and see my beauty,
Form a bouquet with a shower of daisy buds.
Perhaps a rose by another name may smell as sweet,
But this other rose will never speak as bitter.
I may have thorns, my love, but I could never prick you.