Grace be that flower and how she glistens.

Your eyes sift along and you don't see truth,

It's not about the grace but who listens.

She will need you to see through to the youth;

New generations, still not look beyond.

Her blushing colors of the most divine,

If she becomes pale how do you respond?

Her petals wilted, no longer of shrine,

But this can't be! G'on and run for the hills.

She adored you being near at her best.

Not realizing 'til her life fulfills,

Being at her worst is of the true test.

So where have you gone in her time of need?

You are enchanted in sprout fresh of seed.

Rudy Valle