Wilted

Have you ever sat there,

In the ice  rain to watch 

The droplets crash into the barren ground?

The destruction of their perfect form,

Beautiful and sad.

Have you ever sat there

And watched the fragile rose?

As the droplets mercilessly pelts it,

The innocent and alone.

So different from the barren ground,

And delicate as anything else.

Have you ever sat there

And watched the drowning flower,

Battered and bruised?

Watch how it wilts,

Watch how it weeps,

As you look upon it and do nothing.

Will you save it,

Do you even need to?

Have you ever say there

And watch the weakest come back?

As the flower blooms under the sunlight,

When nurtured by a gentle bee?

Who will protect it from those who want to pick it,

And it will keep it safe,

Just as long as the rose will do the same.