It's a perfect warm night for me here in Rose Garden,
The fierce, firey rays have all now gone away;
Relentless they strike without hope of a pardon,
'Til lunar reflections reign victor of day.
Soon bitterly cold for me here in Rose Garden
I longingly wait for the warmth, and I pray,
That this time the rays, which before did not pardon,
Shall seek to encourage my petal display.