There are so many different coloured roses in the world,
And each of them is definitely one of a kind.
Now I'm not up on all the terms that gardeners like to use,
But I can tell you of the rose I have in mind.
Elegant, so tall, and slim
(that's the kind I'd like to be !)
Graceful, yet strong in every way.
She wouldn't be blown over by any passing wind,
But stand defiant against the wind and waves.
Now, as for colour, well, it seems
There are so many hues,
That I couldn't make my mind up anyway.
So a multi-coloured rainbow,
A myriad of shades
Would be the one I'd pick for you today.
Now, as I look at all the roses
That I meet here every day,
I see before me all the shades and hues,
And every individual rose
So resplendent in it's frame
Has such a sweet and fragrant perfume.
This place is a huge garden,
With paths so long and broad,
And every rose is placed here with great care,
That all who walk, and stop to see
The floral cavalcade,
Will tell their friends, will always want to share...
That the roses here are special,
Like nothing else before,
As they grow together in this earth so true,
So when you feel your petals droop,
Take time to walk right here,
For all the roses that grow here are You !!
Written by Paula Stubbs
If I take this suffering as mine
It follows that another nine
Can live their lives without complaint
enjoy themselves without restraint.
If I find myself too tired to play
it also follows then, that they
Must have the strength to party on
and never leave a task undone.
If I focus really, really hard
wrap the words round like a guard
I can numb the pain, it works just fine
"This is for the other nine."
Will I ever hold a child I made?
As time goes by hope starts to fade
Nine mothers have children to show great care
which makes my lack easier, somehow, to bear.
Nine strong women, who know no pain
my loss is, statistically, their gain
It is my prayer, my mantra, my hope
to save them from this, for I can cope.
I have the strength, I can survive
can deal with this, can live this life
I take this pain, I make it mine
for I am one, and they are nine.
Written by Sarah Lennon
I have in my head this poem to write,
You might think it silly; you might think it tripe,
But don't pass judgement until you have read,
As I am giving you some access to things in my head.
What do you see when you look at me?
A happy and friendly person is all you see,
I look back at you and what do I see?
A loving mother, not something I will ever be.
You smile and nod in all the right places,
But all you are seeing is one of my faces,
I paint it on before I go out,
The laugh on my lips, the smile and the pout.
What you don't see is the tears that I shed,
To the innocent remark that you have just said,
"Soon it will be you. Are you trying?"
The tears in my heart, which is silently crying.
I am happy to see your eyes full of love,
The family you have, that fits like a glove,
I may never be a mother, but one things for sure,
The love of my husband is totally pure.
I will sometimes be unhappy I will sometimes be down,
Wearing a big sad face with a big huge frown,
But I still count my blessings, for as you will see,
Because of nieces and nephews I will always be an Auntie!
So now what do you see when you look at me?
Does it make you think? Does it make you see?
I will always have my problems that you will never see,
But always remember there is people worse off than me.
The sun sometimes shines, it sometimes rains,
Our lives are not different, but neither the same,
Our paths may cross from time to time,
But you live your life and I will live mine.
Written by Lynne Young