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A Rose Among the Thorns
At the entrance to the woods,
just off to the side a bit,
there sits a cottage of stone.
Its windows lay quiet and dark,
the door lay shut, yet unlocked,
the chimney dorment like a sleeping dragon.
Yet in the back there is life.
There, every Spring the color returns,
the rainbow of flowers comes through.
Though the weeds are there as well,
the flowers still tower above them.
In a corner though, by the fence,
she sits among the green.
Around her there sits pain
but you shall never see her weep.
You can see her if you look,
for sits quiet and still,
listening to the wind blow by,
listening to the gentle songs of the birds,
sitting in the shade during the day,
and looking at the stars by night.
Just look for her there in the corner
and there she will be,
a rose among the thorns.
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