Pick of the Thorn

Thorn out to see life’s mysteries.


I arose with bud to the sublime aroma

and visual display of nature’s fresh bouquet.

Someone scratches themselves on me

and says, “Thorn you make my life a misery.”

Suddenly peeled off, thorn away from the stalk

my new hearthstone is a concrete sidewalk.


Perhaps a person I will greet

with soft and inviting bare feet

to trod on me then moan and groan…

You may pull me out or take me home!


An outcast now I live on the street.

The elements control my destiny.

I’m very tough and slow to decay.

Strong winds might move me,

Torrential rains may wash me away

But I remain steadfast on this tranquil byway.


Today is street-sweeper day and I can’t run away!

Exposed! Directly in the path of the brushes of wrath

I’m swept off the road in a frenzied bloodbath

and quickly sucked up into the belly of the truck…


I could be crudely dumped in a remote land fill

and abandoned to deteriorate as elemental buzzkill

but I’m sent to a recycling plant for compost refined

to perhaps feed and nurture a thorny bush entwined

thus given a second chance as ‘Prick of the Thorns.’
© David Girard 22/03/19

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