Thorns

Every rose has it's thorns
they say
and brood over the way it sticks
instead of delightfully enjoying the smell
the shape
the crimson pedals.

Love the shape of the thorn itself
the way it protects the beauty,
or penetrates the skin easily
like a slap on the hand
and you pull away
Left to admire the beauty from afar.

(Thorn from a rose-hip bush)