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.