THE SMALLEST BLOOM
She's the loveliest, most delicate,
Smallest bloom in the bouquet,
Nurtured, nourished, treasured, cherished,
barely in her way.
Life's storms could not destroy her,
floods, nor hail, nor wind,
Alive, alive, despite it all,
To give, to
share, what lay within.
The little flower gave and gave,
And, in her
giving, gave some more,
Precious spirit never failing,
Though leaves and
stem long worn and sore.
Picked gently by the hand of God,
To grace His
Reluctantly, we'll give her up,
If our smallest bloom must go away.
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