Rose
I started out as a pretty rose bud,
the rains are coming maybe even a flood.
Then the bright sun will come out,
my pedals open up without a doubt.
I am showing off my new dress in pink,
the bees and butterflies want a drink.
This spring garden is coming alive,
even the chipmunks did arrive.
In the pretty garden I watch and see,
because I cannot flee.
Copyright © Paula Goldsmith | Year Posted 2024
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