| The Iron Rose |
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| He walks alone beneath the gleam Of a moon with bright and glowing beams, And in his eyes there brightly shines The light of a determined, hopeful mind. His shirt is stained and full of holes, His muddy boots have worn down soles, And in his hand an iron rose, His only possession where ever he goes. He sees a maid with golden hair, Her eyes are blue, her face is fair. "She could be mine," he says, "so I Shall not let this moment pass me by." He stands up straight and tucks in his shirt, Then pulls out his rose and shows it to her. She looks at the flower with heavy disgust, For its petals are chipped and covered with rust. "I cannot accept such a hideous thing. A rose made of iron, so rough and unclean!" With that she turns and she walks away, Leaving the man with nothing to say. He walks alone beneath the gleam Of a sun with bright and orange beams, And in his hand an iron rose, His only possession where ever he goes. He sees a maid with fiery hair, Her eyes are green, her face is fair. "She could be mine," he says," so I Must not let this moment pass me by." He tightens his laces and loosenes his shirt, Then holds out the rose and shows it to her. She looks at the blossom with heavy digust, For its petals are chipped and covered with rust. "I cannot accept such an ordinary thing. A rose made of iron, so rough and unclean!" And with that she turns and she walks away, Leaving the man with nothing to say. He walks alone beneath the gleam Of midnight stars with shining beams. He travels far from sea to land, The iron rose still in his hand. He looks for a love he cannot find, For in this world so full of pride The lone man is the one that knows The meaning behind the iron rose. Love is not beauty, pride, or lust, And though its petals are covered with rust, The iron rose can never wilt- And that is how true love is built. |
| By: Dawn |