The Rose

Oh, woman so like a rose!
Whose ideas, smiles, and thoughts
Bud, flower and grow
Each a new level of astonishment
Enchanting, envigorating, surprising us

Allowing mere men to see the depth
Beauty and grace of their formation
Watching each blossom more splendidly
In maturity, in fullness and depth
With age a new level of perfection

Know you the power you wield over us
Ah yes, it is there, in the sparkle of your eyes
Power in your smile, confidence, glee
You know, oh yes you know

What hope is then for us poor men 
But then, what Man wants that Hope
We also know, we know yet still fall 

We fight willingly to be thus graced.
Determined to win you
Constant in our quest to be enchanted!
Think not that we go with duress
Each wants to be your One!

What else makes  young and old so foolish
Exalted, when winning You makes us slaves
Wringing our hands in pure delight
As we surge to your captivity

Your fragrance, delicate beauty 
Transcends all glories of the worldf or us
Both victor and conquered, the slaves of Love
Slaves of your enchantment

Oh yes, we know yet we avidly search
For your hand,
For the our life's fulfillment 
Each of us vying for your spell to conquour us.