My thorn

I cannot be a thorn
Among a roses innocence
To make a lover mourn
On my wrongly placed presence.

I cannot capture the free bird
If it unwilling be,
Then it’s song won’t be heard,
It must come to me.

Let me exist as a breeze,
You may never hear me
Unless you search the rustling leaves,
Yet I will ever be



Poetry by vidura rambachan
Read 153 times
Written on 2023-05-12 at 08:15

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arquious The PoetBay support member heart!
How these thorns remind me of those prickled seed pods in the grass that accompany us home after playing outdoors, or even just walking through the field. As for rose thorns, their 'bark' and their 'bite' are both quite equal in their vestigial nature and their capacity to leave their mark on the unwitting. A pleasure to read and engage with.
2023-05-12