Soft and tender, a beautiful sight, the rose in bloom,
With a smell as fragrant as a luxurious perfume,
Slowly opening, petal by petal, to reveal the center,
A stark contrast to the snow-covered pansy in winter,
The rose is a symbol of love divine,
In a bud vase on the table with a bottle of wine,
The rose is a lovely sight to behold,
But not exactly a fine stem to hold,
Thorns are sharp cutters like an unfriendly dog bite,
They can draw blood from unsuspecting admirers, just to spite,
The rose while conveying an elegant first glance,
Has a weapon hidden beneath, like a jouster’s lance,
It’s a dichotomy of sorts, like many a deceitful explosive,
On the exterior a rose, but with an ulterior motive,
Beware the appearance of the innocent rose,
It is awesome to look at but this I propose,
Handle with care, looks can be misleading,
Like a handsome suitor who could leave your heart bleeding,
The dichotomy of a rose, a juxtaposition of grand design,
Soft and beautiful, yet sharp and bold, carefully I opine.
Tammy Harvey
Written: 10/28/2017
"We can complain because rose bushes have thorns or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses."-Abraham Lincoln
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