Image and description for poem #19

A sepal, petal and a thorn
Upon a common summer's morn -
A flask of Dew - A Bee or two -
A Breeze - a caper in the trees -
And I'm a Rose! 


When meditating on this poem, I sat there and totally imagined myself as a “Rose”.  The vains in a rose pedal are the same as ours, there is no difference.  The bud of a rose beats as our hearts do, and the wrinkled pedals show their age.  We are no different than a rose going about its day.

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