The flower opens its chalice
Of tender petals to the sun
Pleasant object of the bee's fun
Making sweet honey in this bliss
Each to know what life brings, a gift.
The lily fears not the outcome
When the time comes to open
And offer the world its essence
It only knows it to be a good one
Pleased even when it is plucked out.
The rose will not open until
It is encircled in sunshine warmth
It dances in the light, a force
Felt to its core, trusting its will
To be a delight, its reason to live.