The Prick of Her Thorn
By the end of my path,
Lay a sweet silver rose.
Without her home,
As she lay by my toes.
I lower my reach,
I try for my grasp.
A single ruby fall,
So sudden, my gasp.
So small is the cut,
Yet the pain lingers heavy.
My lips meet the blood,
And soothe as a levee.
I walked along the path,
To forget my treasure.
With lingered conscience,
A guilt beyond measure.
I look back now,
She has wilted away.
Now the pr*ck of her thorn,
My guilt,
Her life I could have saved,
If I had just chosen to stay...
(2013)
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