The rose I chose, tho its beauty was without compare, I plucked from a field of brambles. I gathered it in. and held it close. I planted it in good soil and nourished it there. It turned into a beautiful bloomer. through the years I pruned and cultivated it, I held it tight but it kept looking back to the field of brambles. My love for this rose was lost, I set her free to return to the brambles, she is now at home, to the brambles she belongs. Her blooms are more beautiful than ever. Now I only have her in my dreams, this rose in the brambles.
Even tho, I still reach in to pluck it, only to be pricked by its thorns. The heart overrules reality, I still long for this rose.
|
Author Notes
A broken home maybe you can mend, a broken heart never ends.
|
|
