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|Image courtesy of Bill Perry | FreeDigitalPhotos.net|
copyright 2013, Brandi Kennedy
My oldest daughter’s
favorite flower is the rose. She loves the always-perfect form, the musky maturity of it’s perfume. Even as a child, she loves the simple beauty of the age-old classic.
Like a seed planted in the ground,
Ever more each day.
Soft as the petals of a rose,
She embodies innocence,
Even in the awkward stages of growth.
Thorny as the pointed stem,
She grows prickly
In her youth.
And yet as she leaves behind
The tiny baby bud she used to be,
She becomes something
Ever more beautiful
In the form of a young woman.