A white lily grew in the wild,
Amidst the bushes by the roadside,
A thing of beauty, until the eventide.

The fresh rays of a new dawn,
Fell upon it, yet failed to adorn
Its blemished countenance, so utterly worn.

Yonder in someone’s much loved garden,
A white lily thrived – like a fair maiden,
As pretty as on its first day of bloom.

The lily by the roadside died a quick death,
Scarred and bruised beyond recognition,
By the time its last petal had fallen.

The garden lily stands proudly
In the centrepiece on the marble countertop,
Forever the victor over the annihilated.

Image Credit: Photo by Tomas Williams on StockSnap