An ode to a rose: A sonnet like twist

The rainclouds that so beautifully hung
Could not compare to your face
The dew, the butterflies
All the beauty,
Mere vanity in your aspect.
All the world had not the grace
Of that single rose upon which I gazed.

Tainted and teased was my sight by other powers
But my eyes only fell upon that one lonesome flower.

The soil so broken and cracked
I tilled
The earth so dry and salty
I watered and distilled
Went to the highest heavens to collect all the sweetness
And plant it in the garden of bleakness.
So jealous were the clouds that they returned
And watered the ground.

The garden blossomed as I had feared
But died in the wake of my salty tears

I beheld and was never touched
I searched but was never searched for
And these wilted leaves are all that
I have to show for it.