Stolen by the Thorn

By , Lebanon, ME
The rose that grows,
along with thorns,
such beauty,
but sharp,
the danger in all,
you must pick me,
for take me,
take all,
they fear of the thorn,
of which will catch on,
for those who dare,
are those you stay,
are right to the beauty,
and saved from thy thorns.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback