The Garden With A White Rose

The Garden With A White Rose

By Princess Catherine WhiteRose

In the Garden,

Here I stand,

Wishful-pickers must watch where they put their hand,

For I have thorns that prick,

The careless ones who try to pick.

Some might walk by and say

"All white? How plain!"

But it's a symbol of my purity,

So I won't be ashamed.

So here I am,

A white rose,

Here I stand waiting,

And I'll just prick the passers by who purity they're hating.