A buried seed is bound to bleed
And split the earth with crimson head.
From thorns to rose, or so it goes,
Is born a sharp and sudden red.
And were I charmed and not alarmed,
I'd touch the velvet blossoming
Until my hand was pricked, unplanned,
And scarlet necklace start to bead.
Over my head and draped in dread,
A flower crown fit for a queen.
I watch the colors slowly spread
And find I'm trapped inside the seed.
No comments:
Post a Comment