Her eyes were dim
And her scars
Showed upon her face
She had a spark
Bright in her eyes
Of hope and strength

And though she spoke words
Of pain she had been through
She shined upon each page

Her tears trickled
Slowly down her face
She spoke her words
And bloomed upon that stage

Though she was blind
And could not see
She is a rose to me

I met a rose today

That's a lovely thought...it's not easy to create fresh poems using the traditional symbol of the rose. Thank you for posting.