A Gift.

A Gift

Sitting atop a vast green carpet

With her sisters by her side

The world sees her as a beauty

With her petals as her main pride

Nourished by gold

Purified by cotton’s tear

She opens a new hand every spring

She is Mother Nature’s dear

Dusk is when she looks up to glittering eyes

Her eyes see a bright face

She waits for the dawn impatiently

She hums her evening grace

Roamers and pests meet her

To see her dignified display

She is truly the Mother’s gift

From the past to this very day

-Pamela