Her thorns are sharp.
To grasp hold of his heart.
For he is her love.
Her spirit free like a dove.
She won't ever let him go.
Her flawless beauty shows.
She is not a violet of blue.
She is a rose that blooms.
Of beauty and elegant grace.
She brings joy and laughter to this place.
Her heart its sings.
With a tune that rings.
Yet all she wants her love.
So she prays to god above.
With a smile he takes her way.
She takes to the garden where she will play.
And hold on to him until forever.
She will only let him go never.
