Low how a rose,
To mine eye was such beauty beyond folly.
Cupped within hands of thorns,
Your petals of velvet wrapped tight round a secret core.
Touch not the thing, such is mirrored the human condition.
To look back upon the ignorance of youth, and preserve these memories with vines of knowledge and barbs of adulthood.
I knew not the meaning of your existence,
And so doing, pricked my naive heart.