She softly moves amonst the bougenvillia,
What is her mission this fine day?
Gently touching a flower or leaf,
She has nothing to say.
What are her thoughts I wonder,
What rationale does she contain?
Does she too deal with lonliness,
Loss, fear and pain?
She pauses again to rest her wings,
Enjoying the warmth of this Spring day,
And for the few moments I watched her,
All thoughts seemed to fade away.
I wonder why she exists,
What is her mission here on Earth?
Perhaps she's God's reminder,
That each and every being has it's own special worth....
A hero is a man who does what he can.
(The Fragile Rose)