Poem By Elizabeth Stone
I searched for the perfect rose,
but I was left empty-handed.
Someone whispered to me:
„In life one can find perfection only once.“
So I have to give you this blemished rose,
because I already have found you.
How abject can one rose seem,
when I’m trying to show you everything.
How marginal can my words be,
when I’m trying to tell you everything.