The Bramble Rose
In the depths of some divine despair,
the wind stirs softly.
With a prayer from her soul’s deep core –
a plea in awful repose…
A melancholy crack in the smile she wears,
with mildly stern eyes in command;
and silent lips of a paler-hue:
remain filled with lamentation.
The Bramble rose
wears a thin veil
to cover cool radiance in glorious eyes:
virtually perfect…
Copyright © Juanita Oosthuizen | Year Posted 2018
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