Roses and Vines

If All the world were a garden,
She would lie amongst the rose beds.
The sacred cult of Aphrodite. (1)
Where secrets grow beneath.
What our eyes can see... (2)

Lift her scarlet veil of perfection,
You'll find an entagled mess of vines.
A web of all her charms and flaws,
That come together to keep her grounded, (3)
That come together to lift her off the ground. (4)

Her beauty cant be defined.
Through guitar strings or a poet's rhymes.
For she's more than what she seems.
For she's another of mercutio's dreams. (5)
She is roses and vines, intertwined.

Painted in pictures by Redoute, (6)
Described by Yeats in his flamboyant ways. (7)
Like a marriage of pain and pleasure, (8)
She's man-kind's prolific addiction,
Oh, and the envy of every woman.

Yet few try to understand her.
All they see is a flower in a vase, (9)
Wish they'd look past her class exterior,
To see, the passionate love in her thorns(10)
And all the insecurities her leaves adorn. (11)
.
Her beauty cant be defined.
Call it love, for all things divine. (12)
For she's more than what she seems.
For she's the yellow and blue behind green.
She is roses and vines, intertwined.

Is her beauty white like the snow?
Or is her beauty, the soil below? (13)
Is her beauty in a starlit night?
Or is her beauty in, what lies behind the light? (14)
I know, what nobody knows.
I know, all that, she wont expose. (15)

I know, her beauty cant be defined.
Like Colours to a man thats blind.
For she's more than what she seems.
She is roses and vines, intertwined.