The Withering Rose
The Withering Rose is a country ballad about a man looking at the woman he chose more than thirty years ago and realizing that the passing years have only confirmed that he made the right choice.
The young, carefree woman he first fell in love with has grown older. There is silver in her hair and experience in her eyes, but she has also become stronger, wiser and more certain of what truly matters. Together they have weathered the sunshine, storms and thorns that come with a life shared between two people.
When he chose her all those years ago, he could not possibly have known the woman she would become. Yet the more he has learned about her through the decades, the more reasons he has found to love, respect and admire her.
The withering rose is therefore not a symbol of something that has lost its beauty. It is a symbol of a love that has been allowed to grow old—and of a man who, knowing everything he knows today, would return to that same garden and pick her all over again.
Music video
Lyrics
You were twenty-something, laughing,
Like the whole world knew your name,
Running headlong into tomorrow,
Never scared of wind or rain.
I was young enough to think I knew
What forever really meant,
So I picked the prettiest rose I saw
And wondered where the summer went.
Now there's silver in your dark hair,
Little lines around your eyes,
But those years have taught you when to fight
And when to let things slide.
You've learned which roads aren't worth the miles,
Which promises are true,
And every year I've learned a little more
Of the woman I chose in you.
And I'd pick you again,
Knowing everything I know now,
Through thirty years of sun and rain,
You've never let me down.
Every thorn, every winding road,
Every place that we have been,
Put me back inside that garden—
I'd pick you all over again.
I thought I knew the girl I married,
Lord, I barely knew your name,
I knew the way you made me feel,
But not the woman you'd become someday.
I didn't know how strong you'd stand
When the easy days were through,
Funny how the more I've learned about you,
The more I know I chose true.
And I'd pick you again,
I'd pick you again,
Knowing everything I know now,
I'd do it all again.
Through thirty years of sun and rain,
Every thorn and every bend,
Put me back inside that garden—
I'd pick you again.
You say the mirror isn't kind these days,
I say it doesn't know
The girl it sees has weathered every storm
And somehow learned to grow.
A rose ain't only beautiful
The morning that it blooms—
There's beauty in the years it wears,
And, darling, so do you.
We're a little slower getting up now,
And we turn the lights down low,
You laugh and say we're getting old—
Well, I suppose we'd ought to know.
But if growing old means knowing you
The way I know you now,
I'd take every line upon your face
And every year somehow.
'Cause I'd pick you again,
I'd pick you again,
Not the girl you were back then—
The woman you've become since then.
Through thirty years of sun and rain,
I'd choose where I've always been,
Give me one more walk through that old garden—
I'd pick you all over again.
Yeah, time may fade a rose someday,
But it hasn't changed my mind.
I picked you once when I was young...
I'd pick you every time.
