The Master's Garden

The Master had a garden
Filled with flowers everywhere
Each day he'd water, feed and prune
He'd tend each rose with care.

And as he'd walk by each flower,
His face shone with delight,
His eyes would glow his heart would sing;
They were a lovely sight.

But back in one dark corner
A lonely rosebud stood
The water couldn't reach it
It was weak with want of food.

The rays of sunlight never touched its face
Its warmth it cold not feel
And soon the lack took its toll
And the rosebud could not heal.

It slowly began to wither
Its color began to wane
This rosebud would never blossom
Destined to die in lonely pain.

One day the Master was strolling
Through his garden grand and bright,
When he noticed in the corner
A small pathetic sight.

The single, withered rosebud
Its head bowed low in shame
For it had brought no pleasure
And felt it was to blame.

But the master with his loving hands
Began to tend the rose
He watered, fed, and pruned it
And spoke in sweet repose.

He cleared a path for sunshine
So its warmth the rose would feel,
And around the small and weakened stem
Was placed the master's seal.

The rose began to bud again
Its flower rich and lush
And soon the single rosebud
Became a glorious bush

The master made a special place
And put the rosebush there
Its blossoms glistened with beauty
Its fragrance filled the air.

And each day as the master
Would relish in its rebirth
The rosebush bowed in loving gratitude
For the master gave it worth.