tribute for the thorn

flowery bodkin    how red they are
the little starlike marks you sew
onto one’s flesh    but the good gardener
fears you not    thorn    for you’re his aide-de-camp
oh plain prickly guardian of the rose
how astute you are    oh how sharp as well
you use the cries of your careless victims
to alert the careful gardener
but that good fellow fears you not
nor fears he    oh thorn    your keen tine
little brown sword of the gardener’s love
for his floral charge    the gardener’s hand
you let pass for it’s like the poet’s voice:
gentle   skilled and ever loving
not predacious nor ever brusque
oh plain prickly guardian of the rose
oh little blade of love
how sharp    how wise you are

*    *   *

© Gregory V Driscoll 2014

NOTE:  Please read the previous poem to which this is the sequel.

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