Lady Lynn is walking outside when
Asudden, land Angels and their ilk!
Rose in the hand, with a fall and glide
The stand of a lord, and words like silk,
“Red, with petals of magic and smell,
And thornless, how a beauty unmatched!
Near, stand assured to never see hell!
Our trust in you, lest it be snatched…”
“Aye,” Lynn accepts, faith in her fettle-
‘Twas a thornless rose! Who could refuse?
Good care she takes- strokes every petal
Sits by the vase and tells all her blues!
Days go by as she wastes with her hours,
Oh, how all her friends worry and judge!
For Lynn stays at home, aside her flower,
Lost in dreams from where she needn’t budge!
At last, heads find her house, curious
To hear the tale of this thornless rose!
They see the plant and shout, furious,
“We mustn’t have fallen for this joke!”
Bubbling with anger, Lynn shoos them out,
They dared talk ill of her lovely vine!
Grasping the stem, and she cried aloud-
‘Twas a fallen stalk, a tangled twine!
Lynn gasps: understanding prevails,
‘Rose of no thorns’, ‘angels of heaven’!
A flower with no intent of growing,
For it had been dead the day ‘twas given!