The Rose

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The Rose

I was looking at a rose this morning,
It’s outer petals all torn.
It didn’t hang its head in shame
As it faced the coming dawn.
It’s inner petals were soft and perfect
And velvet to my touch.
The rose cared not about it’s outer petals –
They didn’t matter much.
It knew what’s inside that matters;
And that was perfect to the core.
It gladly gave its fragrance and beauty,
And didn’t ask for more.
|And so it stood in the morning light;
A gift for all to see –
Perfect on the inside,
And happy – just to be.
I realized I’m like that rose –
The outer layer all torn.
But deep inside – in the heart of me –
I’m as perfect as when I was born.
So I’ll take away that outer layer –
The one I thought was me;
And let others see the light inside
That’s radiant, joyous and free.   

Written by Elizabeth

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