Red Red Rose:

Beyond her aromas of smell
And her soft prickly skin,
Lies her inner most beauty
That blossoms from within.

It's not her crown of colors
She wears atop her head,
Nor all her treasured nectar
That keeps the hillside feed.

It's her heart and her soul
Them both rolled into one,
That creates such the buzz
Like no other flower does.

For she is a Red Red Rose
The prize of grassy fields,
Just her stunning features
Will make you stop or yield.

She's the cream of the crop
The flower known to most,
To mend a brokenheart
Or give lovers a toast.