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A pink rose on the steam punk track,
Stands tall and proud, against the black,
Its beauty shines, despite the grind,
Of trains that pass it, left behind.
A symbol of hope, a sign of grace,
It stands its ground, in its own space,
And though the trains may come and go,
The pink rose stands, a brilliant show.
Its petals soft, its color bright,
It brings a smile to those in sight,
And though the railway may seem bleak,
The rose reminds us not to speak,
Of hopelessness, of dreary days,
But instead to look for brighter ways,
To find the joy, amidst the pain,
And let our spirits rise again.
For like the rose on the steam punk line,
We too can shine, and we can find,
A way to stand, despite the strife,
And bloom with beauty, in our life.