She stands alone
her petals so smooth
I watch the Light hit her -
and my heart is moved.
Such elegance, such beauty,
my eyes have never known-
she stands absorbing golden rays,
I sit and watch alone.
Her silky petals...
and tender green leaves...
her long narrow stem
with its thorns of unease.
It bewilders me to think
as I watch even now,
that rose that I see
has been battered somehow.
Beaten by the winds
and the rains of life,
by the thorns of other roses,
by pain and strife.
Oh! to be the Gardener,
and to know the exact way
to nurture that rose
back to health one day.
But the Gardener, I am not,
an imitation, I am afraid,
simply struggling through the garden
on the path that He made.
But someday, in time,
I will know what He knows,
and will walk deeper in the garden
and reach that battered rose.
And way out where its harsh
I will tend to her needs-
protect her, cherish her,
and nourish her, with ease.
For by then all my strength
will have come from above
and that slightly battered rose
will be made perfect by Love
I wrote this (poohbear)
