The Thorn (poem)

Prompt here


The thorn is sharp
‘Neath gleaming blossom
Bright in the lamp
Of Springtime’s sun

The guard before the
Gate to pleasure
Its prick as fierce
As edge of sword

The words that bite
The eyes that cut
All you see
Is love beneath

But should you want
My heart as yours
Respect the thorn
With which I greet

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