Roses are red and baby, my eyes are too;
we’re wilting in a world that knew
It’s not easy to be good and kind and true,
selfless and gentle in all the things we do.
Between germination to fallen tree,
there's so little time for us just to be,
To find the earth to set our roots
To reach the light towards which we shoot
Instead we grow the only way we know
and this bed we’re borne is lined with thorns;
The daisy doesn't wish for chains
The cactus still savours the taste of rain
The violet didn't choose her blues;
but it's no excuse to be abused.
Turn sharp to break up hardened ground
Grow tendrils to search for simpler ways round
Build traps so we could have our way
with those who’d steal our leaves away
For lilies can't weep their mustard tears for those who sleep their endless years.
These Storms and Droughts our days receive
reveal an innate thirsty greed,
Prune us back down to seeds
To appreciate the garden as the aphid sees,
To learn the shapes of Autumn's breeze.
It's no wonder we forget to seize
Our Fevers; and be the forest for our trees.
