~ The Rose ~
In a crevice deep and narrow,
In the garden of my heart,
Grows a sweet flower of perfection,
A true masterpiece of art.
It's roots are deeply anchored
So it cannot be plucked out;
Nor can it be transplanted
Into a garden full of doubt.
Surrounded by some brambles,
Discouraged by some weeds,
This flower grows contented,
From a tiny little seed.
Sheltered in a corner where
The winds can cause no harm,
This flower keeps on flourishing,
Adding to my garden's charm.
It trellises on the garden wall,
Its branches tall and strong.
Its blooms opening to morning,
Its stems graceful and long.
The thorns that grow along its vine
Protect its fragile bloom.
And through the night it emits
A heady, sweet perfume.
Oh, to pluck a tender bud,
And hold it close to me,
'Twould be worth all the thorns
That pierce my skin in agony!
For to hold a rose in bloom
One must be pricked by its thorn...
Accepting the pain with the joy;
The healing with the harm...
Along with the thorn grows the rose,
Its beauty widely proclaimed...
And to hold it close to my heart
'Twould overcome the bitter pain.
~In life, to have a rose, you must be pricked by a few thorns...but the reward is worth the pain!~.
© September 2, 2008
By Lynn King
Image courtesy 'Photo Bucket' (Rose Arbor)
Midi: 'The Rose'
By Just4Jesus
© 2008 Just4Jesus
(All rights reserved)
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