Every Flowers Dream

To love, and to be loved
is every flowers dream.

A seed finds soil,
it’s toiled,
and moved
by a working man’s hands
loved for the radiant rose it was.

Soon a chill came to set,
the ground began to harden,
and cool.
The roses began to wilt,
and the working man’s hands
began to dry.

Slowly but surely
the earth began to cry.
Soaking the ground,
giving nutrients
to the roots.

Hugged by nature’s humid cloak,
the roses had no time to choke.

Amanda Shelton


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