A little baby plant,
A little late to bloom.
Cozy in my pot,
but there's no more room.

My roots still grow with no where to go.
I'm too little to know what He knows.

With a twist and a turn, they intertwine
finding to feast, something to dine.
They knot themselves up, little by little;
my leaves up top begin to grow brittle.

The Gardener comes to see my growth;
very quickly He begins to note:

A little baby plant,
A little late to bloom.
Cozy in her pot,
but there's no more room.

This little baby plant needs room to grow,
her full potential, she doesn't yet know.

With a tug and a shake, they begin to unwind,
loosening the roots with nothing but time.
They hold themselves tight, too scared to move.
but the leaves up top get ready to bloom.

My roots now grow with room to spare,
This’s His vineyard; I’m under his care.

A little baby tree,
A little taller she grows
What she will be,
Only He knows.