In springtime ,

I started my

long trek down

the long path.

there were many

new friendships ,

By wintertime I

learned that not

many of them would

last.

I remember one

day in springtime

I saw a rose,

I didn't notice the

thorns,

Luckily most wounds

close.

One day in wintertime,

I saw a rose as well.

It was beautiful,

intriguing ,

By God that rose

was swell.

It was a rose better

than any I'd seen

before,

So I picked it up

and didn't feel any

thorns.

About a second later

blood was all over

my hand.

I only saw the thorn

after looking at the

rose again.

I tell you this with

blood still rushing  from

my arm.

This wound has been open 

since that first wintertime,

I fear it will never scar.