In a flower of rose Resides an overdose Of scents to be inhaled by the noses While our hands the roses toss. The rose towers Among the flowers. She’s the queen of all flowers Whose mirror wields compelling powers. Our world of realities Is graced with roses of many varieties. Their enduring beauties Make them comely deities. The bouquet of rose flower Is the mother of sweet-scented flowers. A widow could sell her dower To buy her scent for a price higher. Whether in red or pink; Whether black or yellow... All I know is that for her fragrance, I must enthusiastically glance!