In the heart of dawn, roses bloom,
Their velvet whispers break the gloom.
Each petal softly sways and sighs,
A dance beneath the morning skies.
Colors weave in gentle grace,
A tapestry of natureâs embrace.
Fragrant tales in crimson hue,
Stories told in drops of dew.
Thorns guard with silent might,
Protecting beauty, day and night.
Yet in their shadow, love does grow,
In every thorn, a tale of woe.
In twilightâs kiss, they gently close,
A slumber sweet, a soft repose.
But in their dreams, they find their voice,
In every bloom, they make their choice.