Down The Field Poem by Andy Greenwald

As I walk down the field,
I saw a flower, so yet I yield.
Such beauty the rose had,
But I know that it was sad,
For it had the thorns.
I sat in humble grief,
As to why it had no relief.
The pedal's beautiful mark
Shadowed by the thorn's dark.
Why when it's done no wrong?
The rose did not want the thorns,
Since no man or beast hopes to adorn.
Catch a sense of something real,
Like a heart yet not ready to heal,
Inside the chest of my body.
The rose still has its gleam,
And probably still has its dream
Of ridding itself of the thorns
Due to cast it in forlorn,
Just like every human being.