Thursday, 20 February 2014

Crimson Rose

© Sylvia Winters
A sign of beauty
A symbol of grace
Its pride runs strong

At a very fast pace.
It's wild like a wolf
It's gentle like the breeze
And it has a burning honour
It's not eager to please.

But carelessness pays
It is armed with thorns
It'll laugh while you're bleeding
As your skin gets torn.

It is loved worldwide
But don't be fooled by its pose
It holds ancient, dark secrets
Beware of the Crimson Rose.

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