the thorn and the rose.
the rose blooms, on tender stems with jagged thorns.
unbeknownst to the flaming rose, the thorns offer a sheath of safety.
protecting the rose, uncaring of their visage, the thorns are silent sentinels.
if only the thorns of my life, were merely a cocoon of safety, shielding me from the storms of life.
if only I were enveloped by thorns, weather-beaten, yet buffered from strife.