A wildflower seed sown out of season,
blown by the wind into a perfect garden;
she pushes through the trampled dirt,
past the hurt and disapproval,
past the remarks, “She’s not like the others.”
Though her feelings flutter like tattered leaves
in the aftermath of reckless storms,
she finds the stength to accept who she is:
a fragrant bloom, whose petals contain
the essence of love and the beauty of life,
for she is more than just a rose
…to be cut and placed in a vase.

One comment

  1. I love the last two lines…”she is more than just rose….” That is how I feel about myself. There is more to me than what is on the exterior…spend sometime with me and find out I say….Thank you for sharing your works with us.Cheers


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