​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.