A Rose

A rose growing in a field of dandelions
I always knew you were special
Your long petals extend above the dandelion quills
Peeking out beyond the almost obsolete field
I always knew you to be different
And even when the wind blows
To carry away your companions
You remain there with withered stems
And half painted leaves
See you remain there far longer than those dandelions
Who flutter away with the breeze
And even though you paint a picture of pain
With the thorns that creep up your stem
You are still a picture of elegance
And among those dandelions
Your half withered body remains etched in my mind 
I always knew you  to be special
I always knew you to be different
I always knew you to be a rose
While the others were dandelions
 

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