Climbing up an endless rose,
slippery ride, hold tight to hope.
Pulling up while sliding down,
turns his bright smile into a frown.
Thorny stem transforms to steps,
making this chore less complex,
fragrant scents perfume the air,
somehow life starts to seem fair.
Misty rain cures his thirst,
he wonders which effect came first,
knowing rise is not endless,
or being able to progress.
Then it happened rapidly,
his legs ascended avidly.
At the top, he felt a hug,
from his awaiting ladybug.
– Grace Y. Estevez-Reddy