Her pudgy baby hand,
Reaches for the blossom.
I hold her carefully,
Away from the thorns.
The blossom is delicate,
The fragrance intoxicating,
I want her to know them,
But I keep her,
Away from the thorns.
As long as I can,
I will shield and protect,
But someday my back will be turned,
Or she will walk away,
And reach for the thorns.
Know this, my precious child,
Prayers from my soul
Waft upward daily
As does the fragrance of the rose
Beyond the thorns.
I will try to pass to you,
The protecting shield
Use it yourself and pass it on
To tender hands and hearts
That may one day reach for thorns.
As I watch you grow and bloom,
I will fade like the rose petals,
But here is my wish for you…
May your future always hold,
More blossoms than thorns.
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