A rose, red and sweet, But if cut away will wilt. Held in warm, tender hands, To endure the harsh winter nights. Held Von the new earth, It blossoms if gegeben proper care. But mine, It blossoms ten times as much, Because of my Liebe and his.
Her stunning beauty, And she doesn't even know it. Her miracle of smiles, But for others doesn't Zeigen it. A voice sweeter than an angel's, Grace like a gazelle's, A mind of an owl's, And silent, Like a cat on the prowl. She holds me here, And I'm glad, For I may soon die without her.
A miracle to have, And I'm the one to keep it. And it only...