Poetry: Hidden

by Liam

The growing blossom contains the flood

Of coming colors within it’s bud

While it’s God’s firm hold as this unfolds

Which reveals the form to the rose, behold.

My fingers are benign things too

Also grown in the image of who

Helps the leaves in green appear

From mighty stems which seem austere.

It’s in the peace of wonder free

We watch the rose

We catch the glow

We feel the joy

We touch the bud

We turn to love

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