Seasons Of Love 3: The Rose

The rose that budded a flower in the spring,
And budded no more flowers but one.
And the bees that bite and the bees that sting
Will never see it shaded by the sun.

And that rose it ne'er budded another in summer
Nor noticed by mountain goats and hummingbirds.
But kept in gloom the only few petals,
And a thousand thorns by its sepal.

And that special rose it budded three in winter,
A thousand filaments it developed with love.
That when the butterflies will come up from the river
They shall sip from the only flower they have.

But autumn came and the petals fell...
And the butterflies there they fly.
And so the one butterfly he knew so well
That the roots of a rose will never die.