There was one, lonely rose of white;
For all the others were crimson red.
We then had such tragic news that night,
When told our Sherry was laid to bed.

This was indeed a fateful day,
For she was reaching out to my mother
On her birthday, when she passed away,
With the appearance of One, White Flower.

Losing her own battle with cancer;
Yes, the roses knew of this fight.
So valiant for her age, so young and tender,
For we both saw the lonely rose of white.

Lovely rose of white; so delicately fragile,
As was this child of three, our sweet Sherry.
Never given the chance to go the mile;
Cut short in life, as was our dear Sherry.

Now she rules among the heavens,
As her fate has preordained.
So pure, so innocent; free of all sins;
Her sainthood shall be sustained.