Free and willing,
Wind in her peddles,
Rising and falling.
The rose is calling,
'Come to me,
Smell my scent.'
See the birds,
Like Heaven sent,
They go to the well.
The rose,
She calls,
'My necter is filling,
My color is toneing,
My spirit is strong.
Please come
And hear my song.
Melanie Weeks
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/rose-53/