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The Rose (etwas zum nachdenken)
von WitchySmiles
Long ago, in a small cottage, there lived a young Lady.
As she dined one day, a rosebud in the garden caught her eye.
She never saw the thorn sprouting beneath her.
„What a beautiful delicate thing, i shall nourish this wonderful object“, she thought.
And when the rose was thirsty, the Lady gave her water.
The thorn drank the excess.
The bud became so beautiful.
The Lady was so proud.
In the shadow of the rose the thorn grew.
The Lady showed her off.
The rose was displayed, admired by all who visited.
The thorn was never noticed.
The Lady spent many hours inhaling her fragrance,
protecting her from the wind.
The thorn just quietly watched.
One day when she was called away on a business trip,
the wind blew and the rose hungered to see more of the world.
On her return, she saw to her horror, the rose was gone.
All that was left was one petal, impaled by the thorn.
She went inside, returning with shears.
She chopped off the thorn and tossed the scourge aside, cursing the ugly thorn.
The Lady never knew...
The thorn she cursed, knowing how important this rose was to her,
caught the petal on the way down for her.
For the thorn cared.
On the ground, the thorn still stood proud.
For although rejected, the thorn embraced her pain.
Her only sadness was for the Lady...
...who only saw with her eyes.
copyright © by
WitchySmiles. By publishing this on lesarion the author assures that this is her own work.
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