Silently, whilst the phoenix sleeps on his perch
On the tree, it leaves the canopy in the lurch
In which the willow weeps, embers of golden fire crackling
A creator struggles to produce a ballad of inspiration,
That as the rose slowly unfurls
Its the epitome of passion and persuasion
As petals grow, unwittingly beautiful
Old as the resembelence of a royal Earl too
And the stem of growth is a sheer emerald green
That warrants not everything is meant to be seen
As the passion begins to teem with a scene
That whirls into a revelation of repute
Building up the families of the dispute
Two parties flock to the scene, in which,
The paternal figures both turn angry red
As all becomes war and bloodshed
In the tears, as it unfolds, the story is a stone of gold
Mirrored in the grief that's taken from the monentious day
The tears wash the emotion and the sadness away
Memories still gathered at the time, but are toasted
By either families with a glass of red wine.