On my way to work each day,
I pass a stretch of wasted land;
Where wicked weeds are lead astray,
growing wildly and unplanned.
The sunbaked earth is parched and dried,
the barren scene is bleak;
The grass has withered up and died,
Downtrodden, wilted and weak.
The monsoons then descended,
in a torrential outburst;
And overnight the land was mended,
by quenching it's great thirst.
I thought I must be dreaming,
when I saw that green expanse;
Green velvet waves were gleaming,
and they held me in a trance.
Birds flocked to bath in cool, clear ponds,
Their song, on pause, to drink;
Flowers kissed the leafy fronds,
green speckled in pure pink.
Our lives could be that wasted land,
reborn in the rainshowers;
If only we could trust His Hand,
and flourish like the flowers.
Roann Mendriq
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/flourish-like-the-flowers/
