The Rose

The rose is near unfolded
Only the last petals remaining
Concealing a sacred treasure deep inside

This rose’s beauty
Lies in its fragile imperfection
With scars that only come through living

And the richness of its color
Not the innocence of pink
Or the passion of red
But of both colors an equal blend

Even as I watch
The last few petals unfold
Allowing me to catch a glimpse
Of glory long untold

And then I realize
That I am this rose