THE THORNY ROSE
I spied a witch
Upon lone path
I asked him a question
To which, he did laugh
Who has most power
The rose or the thorn
That sweet scented beauty
Or its prickly harsh horn?
Shall the lure of the perfume
Outweigh thorny risks
To the killers out yonder
Intent on the bliss?
He said, sir you are thoughtful
But thoughts never did see
How the fusion of happenings
Will yet affect thee
For the thorn is protection
Will fight against kill
But the rose is seductress
Attracts takers at will
And the covetous nature
Of many a hand
May pass one too thorny
But yet strip the land
It might depend on the number
Of killers said day
It might depend on the nature
Of those passing that way
It might depend on the tools
That a killer may bring
For some tools slice thorns
Without even a sting
So this I can tell you
In all honesty
Events are just random
We can never foresee
So to answer your query
There is no more to say
I bid you farewell
To continue your day
And I thought him very wise indeed.
Marion Price (2019)
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