SHEILD FROM THORNS

In lifes garden of joy and despair, Roses bloom, a symbol Of repair. Where love and care are veils of pretense, Thorns whisper the rhythm of sadness. Shields that protect ones heart, Fragrance of roses that never depart The thorns of roses that pierce my soul And in despair beauty stands tall. During the sunset, the roses may dim, Yet in lunas Shine, it seems radiant calm. The thorns that are still so sharp Aches my heart soon to depart. The roses fall thorns grow long, Petals fall like tears swelling. Shields lose their strength like screws, Yet fragrance of roses still remains.