The Hurting Thorns.

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The Hurting Thorns.


The lingering mist whispered,
Into the heart of the bud,
“The hour to wake up and see,
Is kissing on your lips,
From that kiss time takes,
Scents that will fill the coming spring”

Wish eyes were slow enough to see the birth,
Of the first flower of a hope filled spring,
The running time pulled along the hopes,
To stretch beyond every image dreams can see,
Still the sprouting bud of rose brings,
A smile on face and a twitch in the heart.

Be it the cold of the long lost winter,
Or the naughty old wind that lashes fast,
Hey you shown the bold resilience,
To out grown in age with perfection you defined,
Still the beauty lingered like the mist,
And embraced heart erasing every bitterness of past.

Blossom O the symbol of my pleasantness,
Blossom my heart too in the colors of love,
Let the walls of crust that keeps you close fall,
And do not waver in the coming storms,
Hurting me with those little thorns,
Leaving a loving heart to bleed in pain.

Elton John – I’ve Seen That Movie Too



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