A Fragile Sense of Worth
I am a flower with
a fragile sense of worth.
The seed of a weed
was implanted at my birth.
A seed that was watered
by the gardeners of my soul
was fertilized and nurtured
until its roots had taken hold.
I am a flower with
a fragile sense of worth,
my life in the garden was
impaired almost from birth.
The weed grew about me,
entangling my roots...
wrapped its stem around me
to strangle all my shoots.
I am a flower with
a fragile sense of worth.
The weed that overtook me
grew to choke out any mirth.
It blocked out all the sun light
and drank up all the rain.
I can not even tell you
all the joy a weed can drain.
I am a flower with
a fragile sense of worth.
I very nearly died
so withered was my
leaf and girth.
But then one day an angel
from the heavens came to me
with her loving fingers,
from weedy prison set me free.
I am a flower with
a fragile sense of worth.
In the warmth of sunlight
behold my sweet rebirth!
My roots are now embedded,
my stem grows stronger too...
and if you look real closely
you can see a bud or two.
Yes, I am a flower with
a fragile sense of worth.
The touch of an angel
with tender hand did hope unearth.
Now, I grace the garden
and reflect my sweetest worth
for to blossom is the reason
I was planted in the earth.