The Lone Rose In the Field
Looking out the window,
I see a lone rose,
In the middle of a,
Snow laden field.
She is all alone.
All by herself.
Then I notice,
The sun comes out and,
Shines upon her realizing,
She was never really alone.
Everyday when we are at our,
Weakest point we have those,
Many people who watch us,
Look after us,
Often in the background yet,
Just waiting until we need,
Them to help us.
So we may be a lone rose,
In the middle of the field,
But there will always be the,
Sun or those who will,
Always guide us home.
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