A Flower Picked
He thought himself of little worth—
A dandelion where roses grow.
A single weed upon the earth
with seeds no breeze would strive to sow.
But those who know are left to hold
Bouquets of truth that will not fade.
Sweet blossoms not of marigold
But humbleness in deepest shade.
A loss—a gain—a flower picked
To bloom throughout eternity
In gardens that do not restrict
The glory of humility.
by Michael, for Tommy
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