You were a hardy trailing rose
Creeping where no one goes
I stumbled on your briars and thorns
Soon struggling in their throes
How I escaped, nobody knows
Friends ask me why I chose
To walk in groves of briars and thorns
Where none but bad seed grows
My garden now has ordered rows
Soft flowers kiss my toes
There is no trace of briars and thorns
Unless one looks real close.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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