The scent of a blossom
So fragrant and frail
Beauty of such quality
As like told in a fairy tale.

A symbol of life
It blooms with time
Time is the future
Put the past behind.

Such a delicate thing
For it could not harm
But do not be misled
Beware...the thorn.

The thorn may inflict pain
The pain of life
Injecting the venom
It may wound like a knife.

And...knives can blunten
And thorns may die
So put a smile on your face
And keep the sparkle in your eye.

Today the sun shines
Tomorrow they mould
With laughter and loving
Each they shall hold.