Wild Rose
Briar Rose, my name is, but it's Wild Rose that I'm called. Wild Rose. Even as I write this, I cannot help but think of the cold, hard, stone keep where I spent so long. Then, as the sunlight falls across my shoulders in a golden cloak, as I hear the birds trilling outside my window, I remember how beautiful the world is, and the cold city fades from my mind. But what they did to me, what they did to Briar Rose, that can never fade. Sometimes I wake at night, cold and sweating, from nightmares of that city by the mountain. Lark used to come into my room, stand beside me and whisper calm reassurances to me, until I slept again. Now Lark has her little one to mind, and she can't come. Memories of her soothe me now. So many memories, good and bad, of the life of a little country girl named Wild Rose.
These are the memories which give life, now and forever. For we are everything that's happened to us.
Briar Rose, my name is, but it's Wild Rose that I'm called. Wild Rose. Even as I write this, I cannot help but think of the cold, hard, stone keep where I spent so long. Then, as the sunlight falls across my shoulders in a golden cloak, as I hear the birds trilling outside my window, I remember how beautiful the world is, and the cold city fades from my mind. But what they did to me, what they did to Briar Rose, that can never fade. Sometimes I wake at night, cold and sweating, from nightmares of that city by the mountain. Lark used to come into my room, stand beside me and whisper calm reassurances to me, until I slept again. Now Lark has her little one to mind, and she can't come. Memories of her soothe me now. So many memories, good and bad, of the life of a little country girl named Wild Rose.
These are the memories which give life, now and forever. For we are everything that's happened to us.