| The Rose A wondrous solitary rose Is growing where nothing grows. A bright red against the pale gray. A warm body on a frozen day. Feeling its way up the wall, Overcoming cold stones in its crawl. Constantly climbing, ever so high To draw forth sun from the clouded sky. It chokes life from the weeds And lays the barren ground with it seeds. It pushes its roots through polluted earth To find the deep love which gave it birth. A blossoming life in a desolate place, A work of art with an ink of grace. In this place where nothing grows Is a single, proud, and wondrous rose. |