One cold winter's day, a man took in his sight,
A bush of two roses stood out in the night.
Both the color of blood, he took a close look.
Now honestly tell me which one he took:
One was so large and beautifully kept,
It had covered the other, it had so much dept.
It was quite a nice treasure, a sight to behold,
It made the snow glitter, and it looked like pure gold.
The other was small, with petals so tattered,
And it always did droop, so the other was flattered.
The large one's great beauty made new flowers come near,
While only thorns came to the small one each year.
But it spotted the man, and it did its best,
As it lifted its head and puffed out its chest.
And though it looked dead, it mead the man see
How truly beautiful the odd one could be.
But he still picked the large one, and dawdled away
Back to his home on the old Briny bay.
And there all alone the rose took its last breath
As it fell off the bush and traveled to death.
Very soon after the man came Strait on back
To that very same bush and the roses it lacked.
And there at his feet to his horror he found
The ebony rose that had dropped to the ground.
And he fell to the floor and the started to weep.
And he mourned and he mourned until he was weak.
And he clutched his dear love, all glistened with dew
And he closed his old eyes, and that's when he knew
That the darkest of creatures and the strangest of blessings
Can be so very sweet the last thing you'd be guessing
And there the man died, his death he embraced
As he lay in the snow with a tear on his face.
And that is the tale of a love so, so pure
So read it with pleasure and just hope for more.