THE ROSE

I recall the words of an old sage
Long since dead and gone.
"Son, life is a bed of roses
Amidst a cluster of thorns."

As I pondered these words alone
I found the message these words disclose
The thorns that mar the beauty
Are the guardians of the rose.

For often a careless hand will attempt
To trifle with this gem
And find then only agony
From this jewel stem.

But those who strive in earnest
And let perseverance prevail
Find the fruit is sweeter
Than that of labor frail.


And those who await the relentless scythe
To strip the roses bare
Soon find the rose no longer
But fallen petals as their share.

~Anwaar N Hassan~

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