The Black Rose

She is my black rose,
And alone in my garden she grows.
Does she even know,
How much she soothes my soul?

I visit my garden every day,
Especially when I am down and gray.
And I ponder the words I would say,
If God would hear the feelings I pray.

I feel a hole when she's not around,
And I long to hear her make a sound.
I hope her roots are deep in the ground,
And in her heart I will be found.

Will she venture, ever so slow,
To where the gentle waters flow?
Wander over to where the sun shows,
In my empty garden, with my black rose.