Battle Of The Rose

 

I once possessed the gift

Of trust that held no bounds

And the field that was my heart

Was healthy and bountiful grounds.

 

Whence upon these grounds

A stranger stepped

He was engulfed with care

And safely kept.

 

When a time would come

For the stranger to leave

The weeping willows in this

field would grieve.

 

A rose would be planted

in memory of

This stranger who held

a piece of my love.

 

Then a stranger appeared

With a bag of dark seeds

They filled this field

With deadly weeds.

 

It was not quick

Yet it was nearly complete

They destroyed the grasses

and wilted the trees.

 

The havoc wrought

and the damage done

So much life and beauty

and innocence gone.

 

This beautiful field

that once was my heart

Now lies spoiled

and torn apart.

 

Yet deep in the center

Within a shelter of stone

Blossoms one survivor

A lone, purple rose.

 

With unique, turquoise leaves

This rose so dear

Continues to fight

and conquer the fears.

 

As time goes by

And more strangers come

The replanting and nurturing

of the field’s begun.

 

With patience and love

and tender care

This field which is my heart

Once again may share.

 

And with the rise and fall

of many suns’

All will bare witness

to the battles I’ve won.

Copyright ©1995

Picture courtesy of Google images

Picture courtesy of Google images

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One response to “Battle Of The Rose

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