A Rose's Fate

In desert’s garden

restrained, you stand,

unconscious beauty

so near to hand.

Your brilliant blooms,

your graceful form;

what fear demands

those daunting thorns?

Through howling winds;

bent to the ground

you’ve not surrendered;

such strength you’ve found.

With faith and heart

survived the storms,

but still you prize

your precious thorns.

Now winter comes

and color fades,

you sleep so peaceful

behind those blades.

Through snow and ice

you will have borne

and held so tightly

your rigid thorns.

When spring returns

quicken you will;

as flames your blossoms

can not be stilled.

For time untold

with shine immured,

lest live in love,

fair thorns deferred.