Flowers

Many of the children pick flowers for us at Place of Rescue.  Right as soon as the flower is ripe and beautiful to pick, there's a chance someone has their little hands all over it.  Some of the kids here have AIDS and as one boy handed me some fresh flowers the other day, it made me contemplate the lives of the other sick kids around here.  I hope you do too.

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The little boy picks flowers for me

And offers them affectionately 

Yet I wonder if he doesn’t know

The time it takes a flower to grow

Young petals that had barely spread

I hold in my palm already dead

So how do I respond or react

To this flower no longer intact

Blossom you barely had time to soak in

The sun, the rain and your life within

He plucked you from your sturdy stem

And no longer were you one of them 

Appreciation for such intricate form

A lot resolved before you were born

If he only knew your plight

You might have stood up tall upright

Why though is there such beauty 

In this flower he has picked for me

Foolishness I dare not say

For it was given life this day

He sowed some love at the expense

Of a timely act of providence

To demonstrate how much he cared

For in this bud his soul he bared

Its stalk was weak and so is he

But love in them is all I see

A life they both met underserved

A life, a love is now preserved 

He is the blossom that keeps on living

Though his sickness is unforgiving

And when I hold this tiny blessing

Christ’s love I am now possessing