​She braced herself – 

For the cold seasons ahead,

As if some inherent thought, 

Had encouraged self-preservation,

Against the spirit of change. 

A multitude of thorns, 

Covered her slender stem,

Self-protection was key,

Starting as she had. 

A small seed, 

Who clawed her way from the dirt,

A beauty once unseen, watched, 

As others bloomed and wilted, 

Before her eyes. 

And now she grows eternally, 

Anchored in my soul, 

Stronger roots,  endless possibility – 

For I, see beyond her thorns, 

She is a single red rose,

Taken in from the cold,

Placed upon a pillow. 

Kevin Brown © 29.01.2016

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