How does a flower grow, and into a name like "Passion" so full and well?I am sure she weathered storms, like the ones we had last week.
Yet no tears remain on her crimson pedals, or emerald foliage.Had she been in a greenhouse, she would have avoided any trauma.
No harsh winds, sudden temperature changes, or beatings from rain drops and hale.
But I see something distinct in her, rising above the dark and heavy storms.
She'd drank in the beating drops, only to plenish her upward reaching soul.
She'd stood against the bending winds, catching and release friendly waves.
She'd bathed in the wilting sun, to gather the most brilliant blushing hue.
Nourished by trials as blessings from above, her vain flooded with peace, courage and strength.
Now her pedals open to the caressing sun, declaring a pure, open and thankful heart.