I stopped to view a rose today,
Its beauty, I'm in awe to behold.
So soft, so tiny, so perfectly formed,
As only my Lord can mold.
Its touch like velvet or baby's skin,
Sends a thrill to my very soul.
Yet, the thorns, not handled properly,
Can turn one's senses cold.
Our lives like this rose, are fragile.
They bloom as we work to grow,
Yet, He has to prune our thorns carefully,
In order for our beauty to glow.
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