Roses budding

This poem is something I wrote a little while ago, but I wanted to share it for a special invitation I received to join a rally at The Poetry Palace.  Thanks, Orange Tree, and I hope you enjoy this one. 



Rose
Beginning to blossom, a delicate rose bud

She waits for the tide to wash away the mud,

Wide eyed and hopeful, like a pearl in the sand

Then tenderly she carries it, cradled in her hands.

Like a child chasing butterflies, she runs up the path

Wonder enlightening, and she begins to laugh

As the sun burns brightly in joyous azure skies

I watch her hopeful seeking with tears in my eyes.

Helpless to stop her, as she tries to share her find

One after another, they turn away, blind

She wilts, tears glistening, hands drooping beside

And turns away alone again, her treasure to hide.

I call her name, she turns to me, with sorrow in her eyes

I reach to her, and gently start to brush away the lies -

Lies that tell her she has nothing worthy to impart

And like a balm, I whisper words of truth to her heart.

I tell her how I glimpse the beauty cradled in her hands

I tell her how God made those pearls, glinting in the sands

And as the waves of truth wash away rejection’s mud

The heart revealed in her hand’s a delicate rose bud.