THE LITTLE GIRL
Jesus saw her from afar,
He gazed down on a tiny figure,
A little girl sitting among roses,
Blonde ringlets shimmering over her shoulders and
A look of innocence wrapped upon her face.
She stared out across bedecked flower beds,
Lost in lonely thoughts.
She missed her Mummy and Daddy
Far more than anyone could have told her.
Summer blooms, though mostly roses,
Daintiest of pastel pinks
Merged with vibrancy of peacock blues.
Each petal painted with God's perfection,
Mounted on slim emerald stalks,
Jewelled dew drops balanced precariously
On baby buds.
Sweetness of sight,
Laced with searing thorns,
Capable of slicing unimpeachable flesh.
And yet the small child stroked the bunch
She held gently across her lap
Unaware of any such pain.
For she was safely in His enclosure now,
Surrounded by other trusting lambs,
Brought to Him far too early
But safe now,
In His presence.
Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades
Vote for this poem