Under the thorns I here besiege,
Blessings of the hearts reprieve.
Roses grow among the wall,
In the winters second fall.
Alas my love your essence true,
In rain and snow and skies anew.
Bring the sorrow in your stead.
Along the garden, roses bled.
Where blooms a lovely green and red,
Thy infamous reach up to the roof,
My happiness here your will does prove,
Stretching arms of emerald growth,
My love my rose, I love you most.
The winter comes, the fall is done.
To see you next spring in the sun.
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Author:
RSM (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 6th, 2025 05:54
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 20
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments2
A lovely poem of beauty in the metaphor of the flower and the season. So nicely framed it sends its message and in the sweetness of its fragrance a memory preserved. A fave
Thank you for your kind words
You are most welcome
So beautifully written!
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