She sits there with grace

Like a single red rose

In a bed of white carnantions.

One lonely tear

Trickles down her cheek

Like a raindrop gliding

Down a soft petal.

Does she not see the beauty

Her existence brings

To a world lost in the grey?

Being alone is not the result

Of blending in to this garden

But being a bloom amid permanent buds.

Not yet has she found that suitor

Worthy to smell the classy fragrence

That tickles the nose of humanity.

While all those carnations

Are good for a moment scented pleasure

That single rose is worthy

Of a lifetime of admiration.