A Rose, a Child

A rose is like a child, a child is like a rose, you nurture it to help it grow, you keep it straight and in a row.  You shield it from all things around, you lean it up, you hold it up, you keep it from the ground.

This tree is strong, this child is strong, no others can surpass, you’ve helped a little sprig, become mature at last.

The stems are long, the leaves are wide, to fill the space along its side.  A bud appears upon this tree, so small, a little thing, a child you see.

To open wide its little eyes, soft and round, we hear no sound, this tiny bud becomes a bloom, amazement does abound.  To see a bloom, so full and bright, how can this bloom, once a bud, give off this shinning light?

Hold the bloom between your hands, with loving care, your rose still stands.

You smell the rose, the fragrance sweet, you touch a child, your cheeks will meet.

The dew will come and kiss the rose, a tear will drop on a tiny nose, the bloom was kissed by drops of dew, let go the rose for you are through.

Close your eyes and you will see a beautiful, loving, giving tree, close your eyes and smell the air, the fragrance still may linger there.

Close your eyes and hear the sound, of once little feet still around, close your eyes, reach out your hand, to touch, to feel, to understand.

Open your eyes and you will know, the rose is me, a child to Thee.