so lovely, so unblemished
the total essence of beauty,
the epitome of sensitivity.
yet, so sharp are your thorns.
to touch you, one must be, oh so gentle.
you express joy,
you express pain;
you are nature's answer to the query,
"what is beauty?"
a rose, crimson, deep, soft, you.
but even so, i ask,
"why the thorns?"
is it that you desire not to be touched?
your simplicity is what enthralls
me to touch you,
to marvel at your beauty.
but the thorns...
you are a rose among the daffodills'
i am intoxicated with your beauty.
yet the daffodills have no thorns.
i am overwhelmed by your softness,
only now when i touch you am i reminded
that it is you who is aware of your
and it is that which you must defend.
the thorns are for me to remind myself
to be gentle;
that this rose should be handled
by loving hands.