The White Rose

This is a poem I started writing after my cat died. A dear friend had given me a white rose as a gift of comfort and I felt somewhat inspired. It is not quite finished, but I really want to share it. So, here goes:

Given by a friend,
it came at the end.
Petals are soft and white,
standing in all their might.

Kind, gentle, and pure;
look and find the cure.
Behold its sharpened thorns,
pain and grief now are borne.

Meek, humble, and small;
glory shown to all.
One simple, faithful touch
heals and removes the crutch.

Though weaknesses are bare,
the Rose is still there.
Light, love, comfort and hope;
with it one can cope.