Roses and Daffodils
By Eileen ( @empress.will.sail)
Looking at two flowers,
I've been torn for hours.
A daffodil and rose,
both pleasing to my nose,
a good decision, whichever way it goes.
I've always been fond of roses, since I was a little girl.
I'd hold the flower, and I'd twirl.
But daffodils have a certain charm,
they seem to promise to do no harm.
I can't dance with roses, because of their thorns.
The beautiful flower almost shows me scorn.
The daffodil and I have danced before,
but should I be guilty for wanting more?
I pick the rose, making the right choice.
It called to me, even without a voice.
I now have the rose, I love it so much,
it has me entangled in its clutch.
Suddenly I feel a sharp pain.
The thorn has pricked me in my vein.
The pain shoots through and stabs my heart,
but I don't let go; with it I just can't part.
My grip loosens slightly, but the pain is increasing,
I can't let go, but the stings are not easing.
I begin to cry, but I still hold on.
I want to stay with the rose, even if I'm wrong.
The pain is unbearable and I finally let it drop.
I can't believe it, my heart goes pop.
It's crazy to love the rose, but my feelings stay.
The pain however, does not go away.
The daffodil catches my eye, through tears.
I'm being attacked with emotional spears.
I can't pick it now, I still love the rose.
But I could smell the daffodil, I suppose.
While smelling the daffodil it comes into my hands.
My nurture and care, it almost demands.
The garden of life can be beautiful and scary.
When you enter you must be weary.
But always know,
when you think of the bulldozer,
Mother Nature watches over.