by Tracey L Hardie
Friday, November 15, 2002
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You were my valor
with a two sided sword,
razor edged cuts
embe dded scorns of abhorred
I was the rose,
vibrant, rich with hues of red,
nurtured within the garden
of hopes flowerbed.
You were my knight in shinning armor
the protector of my realm,
stance with arms bared
to protect as deemed.
But you fell to evil's ale
when you drank the gift of wine,
into the gates of hell
to the depths of a burning shrine.
Blinded by fires that raged
with the winds of sin
you slice thin air, until you slice
thought the thorns of my stem.
I lay upon your sword
reflecting the scent of death,
silence filled the air
as if everyone held their breath.
Was this the moment in time
when hope was lost to all?
Had evil won the battle
would men now beg and scrawl?
A light glimmered from the sword
as the rose laid upon its blade,
a miracle had happened
for a silent prayer that way prayed.
They saw that in death, beauty prevailed
but only to those who had faith and believed.
All was not lost by the death of the rose
as the devil had previously perceived.
The rose that had been cut
was only a symbol to those in need,
true hope would never die,
because of the embe dded seed.
Copyright 2002 Tracey L. Hardie
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|Reviewed by Roger Ochs
|Well metered, richly romantic.|
|Reviewed by Jack Roberts
|Beautiful write Tracey, I enjoyed this!
|Reviewed by La Belle Rouge (Reader)
|Wonderful work, Tracey, as I always expect from you!|
|Reviewed by David Leigh
|Powerful imagry. I like the last verse.|
|Reviewed by Ted Sheridan (Reader)
|Came back strong with this, been awhile,|