Thorns and Feathers
Everywhere it is heard
That they will give a kind word
To anyone in need
Even though Rosethorn may,
Seem like a hard seed
She is like a solid tree at the end of the day.
Spinning everyone together
As a piece on her loom
An adopted mother
Everyone is comfortable in the room.
She is Lark, is she
The feathers that cloak the thorns
Always a nice place to be.
They are the guardians of Discipline.
Who raised the four,
Now the world they tour,
Still they wait—
With open arms
They leave an open gate,
Protection from harms
Lark and Rosethorn,
A great deal more soft than stern,
Are always waiting
For the footsteps of return.