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That Trampled Rose

by louis gander  
2/26/2009 / Health


I remember long ago
a Fair had came to town.
People talked for many weeks
and came from miles around.

One of several contests -
two roses were compared.
It seems like only yesterday
the way the people stared....

A mass of people circled
'round the roses, stood;
but sitting in my wheel chair,
I couldn't see so good.

One received the highest prize
the other one was tossed;
as people cheered the winner -
ignored the one that lost.

For the one that lost its case -
the judge just cast aside;
then was trampled under feet.
Its owner nearly cried.

The winning rose was held up high -
for all the world to see;
The people crammed around it close,
and oh, they did agree.

Some in back, for a better look
stood high on their tip toes
shuffling for position
still trampling on that rose.

Finally, a little boy
'bout 2 or 3 years old
snatched that dead old flower
and brought to me to hold.

It's stem was crushed so thoroughly
and wasn't very long;
Hardly recognizable -
with most it's petals gone.

I wanted nothing of it -
oh, to view the other rose!
But I sat in my wheel chair.
That's how the story goes.

The boy stood right beside me -
He thought he'd done me good.
He never said a single word,
he just misunderstood.

There on my lap it laid until
I got back to my room.
Then I tossed it in the trash can -
as it could never bloom.

But oh, a few days later,
the County Fair had passed;
when all the excitement dwindled,
when people left at last....

I unburied that dead rose,
and pressed it in a book;
and now when I'm discouraged,
I take another look.

Pressed deep within the pages
at Psalm One-hundred-three;
I often think of that small boy -
the love he showed to me.

The winning rose has long since passed -
gone, its worldly shine.
Though others long for other things,
that trampled rose is mine.

Copyright 2017 by louis gander.
Poetry for sermons, story poems and more...
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