Tender plants
It takes a bit of water
For a tender plant to grow;
A home within a pot of earth,
Or lined in furrowed row
Where dappled rays of sunshine fall
On outstretched leaves and flowers.
A bit of friendly effort keeps
Things neat between each shower.
So, seedlings of the human sort
With tender hearts to keep;
Need homes in loving families
To send their roots down deep,
Need parents with their outstretched arms
To help them seek the light,
And willing hands of every size
To see they grow aright.
If all their life is sunshine though,
They may wither, droop, and fold.
It takes a bit of rain then too,
For the growing of a soul.
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