The Velvet Thorn

A rose bush leans against the garden wall, It blooms a riot of crimson whispers. Petals soft as lover's lips unfurl, While beneath, sharp sentinels stand guard. This beauty bears a double-edged sword, A paradox of gentle grace and hidden bite. Velvet petals beckon, "Come closer, friend," While thorns hiss, "Beware, keep your distance." In sunlight, it dances a waltz of shadows, Casting lace patterns on emerald grass. But as twilight falls, its silhouette looms, A specter of both comfort and unease. Bees buzz happily from bloom to bloom, Drunk on Nectar's intoxicating brew. Yet careless hands reaching for beauty Recoil, stung by nature's sharp rebuke. Oh, friendly foe, you teach us well The duality that dwells in all: How love can wound, how pain can heal, How friend and foe are but two sides Of the same coin, forever spinning. In your thorny embrace, we learn That life's most precious gifts often come Wrapped in packages of paradox. You stand, a testament to resilience, Beauty forged in the kiln of adversity. As night falls, moonlight gilds your form, Transforming thorns to silver filigree. In this moment, we understand at last: The rose's beauty lies not just in its bloom, But in its courage to bear both petals and thorns.