Upon Her Entering Nursery

She’s delicate, oh so delicate
She turns her face shyly
Even from the warm sun
Whose countenance excites the
Zinnias and marigolds to sprightly attention

Her scent is soft
Her color mauve and beige
Her beauty – so fine to the eye
Retracts and withers at a thoughtless touch

A chilly breath, a heavy hand,
A careless nudge, a tease
Bruise my little hot house orchid
She will not grow with ease

Would that she be a marigold
Or even a thorned rose
With just adequate attention
It thrives and grows and grows

Please don’t crush my orchid
She’s trying to be brave
Please don’t crush my orchid
She’s trying to behave

She’s delicate, oh so delicate
But what a prize she’ll be
For you who will tenderly cultivate her
To be herself and free