The yellow rose,
like sunshine,
stands outside the door
of the founded, waiting church,
having more to give
than the sermon heard within

To see God, see the rose
From bud to bloom
it follows the sun.
It shines.
You saw it as a child,
this light,
and, though it decompose,
it is a prayer,
a perfume on the air,
a symbol of Gods love
in which we share.