The rose


I saw one beautiful rose bud
Always “stuck in the mud”
I asked: Why don’t you bloom?
All seems so “doom and gloom”

Weeds seem to entangle
Forever strangle
I took the weeds away
They returned to stay

It made me feel so sad
I wanted it to feel glad
One morning I awoke
The Rose “spoke”:

“Now it is my duty
To show my beauty”
She felt an inner push
To be the beautiful Rose-bush

Away fell the weed
People stood still to greet
Admire her beauty indeed
Her scent so intense sweet