She's the type of precious flower
That grows well,
And thrives,
In nature's sacred rich earth,

Each new blessed morning
She reaches out to the sunslight -
She knows its energy is responsible
For her daily blessed rebirth.

She's the type of precious flower
That grows to her full potential
After a heavy rain,

She can handle the wild winds -
She can handle a little roughness,
And a little bit of pain.

She's the type of precious flower
Who does not compete,
Or compare herself,
With any other flower,

She knows her worth,
And she is comfortable
Being herself -
This is her special superpower.

She's the type of precious flower
That possesses a rare uniqueness -
An original beauty,
Inside and out,

She prides herself
In living for the joy of life,
She is grateful
For the simplicities in life -
And for being blessed
With the gift of life;
For being chosen to sprout.

By Lady R.F ©2016

When the darkness peeks through my doors at night, tell me why I feel the chill of eyes.
In my feelings of loneliness, I tend to find the glowing embers in charcoal colored eyes every time the lights are out.
Tell me who's there.
If you are the entity that watches me, tell me this: do you like what you see or do you pity me the way I long to be pitied?