I am the Child of the Rose,
Romance dripping from my thorns.
I am the Child of the Wind,
Everchanging in my nature.
I am the Child of the Moon,
For the night is my birthright
I am the Child of Love,
In a society where marriage has become
Meaningless, a disposasble commodity
For Twenty years my father and mother
No longer in the dusty pink bloom of their youth
Have chosen to grow old together
Their bonds remain unbroken
I am the Child of the Yellow Rose
Born from the evergreen leaves of their Devotion
Shaped by the whirlwind, midnight Love
Of that May-December Romance.