The Rose

The Rose Hidden beneath a circle of tangled weeds Bruised, hurt and torn and made to bleed Lies a bud, so young, so true and full of life Buried by marks of angry strife. Imprisoned in a space shared by no other Folded petals used for a cover There’s a bud barred up where others cannot go For harsh seasons have made it so. Found one day toward the end of a raging storm A petal reaching for Love’s arm. Peeping through bars with strength from deep inside To live, not die, the bud decides. Blossoming now as petals, one-by-one, are freed Is a life of which the world is now in need To beautify with its presence and form so true Making a difference in all that it may do. Hidden under hurt so vast Imprisoned by thoughts of the past Found by a special love that grows Blossoming beautifully into… … The Rose