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The little rose looks up
to the mighty tree above
Filled with adoration and
hero-worship love.
How can one be so tall?
How can one be so grand?
While I bend with dew,
A storm he can stand.
While I have but a few small leaves,
Look at the canopy he has made.
I how a wish I were a tree,
so grand, so tall so brave.

The tall old tree looks down
at a little rose below,
Filled with quiet wonder
and and envy he has never known.
How can one be so pretty,
so soft and so petite?
While I am rough with bark and limbs,
She is delicate and sweet.
While I am old and weathered, and always quite alone,
She is red and lovely, and with many others makes her home.
She has petals of satin and is loved by all.
Oh, how I wish I were a rose,
so graceful, and so small.

Another verse really isn't needed, the moral here is clear. . .
There really isn't reason to envy, jealousy isn't fair.
If the tree and rose didn't spend all day making silly, wishful rhymes.
They could talk and be great friends, if they would only take the time.
It's really a shame to waste your life, comparing yourself to others,
Just learn to love you for who you are and save yourself the trouble.

Learn more about this author, Lindsey Stell.
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