You can live without bread but not without roses.
You were painted,
But not by my brush
You were painted without a tube of oils,
Without colors mixed in a chemist's lab.
God spoke you and you came up from the soil
Through branches and stems,
Where you formed a bud and grew and bulged
Like an infant swelling a mother's belly,
Sun warmed you, roots fed you in silence.
You burst on my day against green leaves
Outside my window this morning
Just as God planned.