Monday, July 13, 2020

POLLINATION OF BEAUTY



As I reached to pick a bloom,
A thorn it pricked as if in scorn;
For I had threatened its' short life
By attempting to my home adorn.

 So oft we reach for things of beauty
And thus to claim them for our own
But when we do, their spirit ravish,
Find they perish when no seeds are sown.

 Some gardens meant to view as wild
And their beauty multiply
but when we reach to cut their limbs,
We sadly kiss their life goodbye.

 Pinks and reds, yellows and blues,
Sprinkled like paint upon the meadow;
God's canvas of beauty for us to view
And thus spread their joy when allowed to grow.


 


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