Garland Of Roses

 

There they were,
The fragrant and smiling roses on the rose-briar.
Tempted to pluck them all.
Forgetting the thorns
With every pluck,
Accompanied the pain of the thorns,
The pain of a lifetime.
Piercing a wound unhealed.
As time passed by,
The horrid pain soon turned into pain sweet.
Each rose turned into a memory divine.
Lessons learned,
Wisdom collected.
Basking in the sunshine of experiences earned.
Gathering each rose,
To weave into a garland divine.
A precious garland of love and pain,
To crown my Saviour’s head.

© Meghna, 2021, All rights reserved.