High upon a hill in spring <br />The garden sits in view. <br />Birds are madly chirping <br />And the roses full of dew. <br /> <br />They glisten in the morning light <br />Their color shining thru. <br />The darling buds of pink and white <br />Red and yellows too. <br /> <br />Those magic little faces <br />That poke right out at you. <br />Smiling as you pass them <br />Enchanting thru and thru. <br /> <br />Hoping for selection <br />So ready to enhance. <br />Wish that things were different <br />You wouldn’t stand a chance. <br /> <br />When you have a name my friend <br />They’ll let you enter then. <br />Not enough you’ve passed the test <br />Or outshone all of them. <br /> <br />I’m sorry little rose of mine <br />Alas it is but true. <br />You’ll never get to be a Queen <br />Without a name for you.<br /><br />Cheryl Moore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-rose-that-will-never-be-queen/
