Pretty roses caress thy feet,
And those bare of yonder man,
Walking to the azure ahead,
He could, he will, he can.
And roses yet, beneath raw feet,
How soft, how sweet, so red,
Obliterated, yes just once,
For all that lay ahead.
Obliterated, yes just once,
For roses have bloomed anew,
And have laid their velvet beds,
For everyone of you.
But careful, don’t you tread too quick,
The bed’s not petals, but thorns,
The world has already been pricked,
And you don’t want to mourn.
~ the world currently faces a disastrous crisis. While the global population now is locked inside buildings, it is rather a miraculous time for nature. It is disheartening how we had forgotten nature in order to achieve economical growth and nature seems to be getting back at us. Yes, the world has been pricked with a thorn and this thorn surely is destructive, but we must realise that life is not just a bed of silky rose petals, it was perhaps, but it isn’t. Keep in mind, you must face the thorns of a rose enjoy its fragrance, so let’s all stay safe and have faith in what might come out of this pandemic. Peace out!
Sui Generis 
Very well written 👍
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Thank you!!
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I am glad I came across your blog.
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Ditto 🙏
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Followed your blog for such future poems. BTW, I have also started blogging, would be happy if you can visit my blog and support me. Here is the link , please consider following if you like my posts. Looking forward. Thanks & Happy blogging
https://travelwidnik.wordpress.com/
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Surely. It will be my absolute pleasure. Happy blogging to you too. Peace and greetings 💛
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Lovely, as always. But speaking of nature my last post published on Saturday had 200 people reading it. You were not among them. Why?
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Thank you Friend.
I am so sorry, I have been caught up in things lately. I shall be sort them out by the end of the week and will surely visit it soon. Have a great day.
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Beautiful.
And, very relevant, still:
Yes, the world has been pricked with a thorn and this thorn surely is destructive, but we must realise that life is not just a bed of silky rose petals, it was perhaps, but it isn’t. Keep in mind, you must face the thorns of a rose enjoy its fragrance, so let’s all stay safe and have faith in what might come out of this pandemic.
Keep trying to smell that fragrance though. Look at the picture that goes with your poem. There are more petals than thorns.
is that the morale of the poem?
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