The Rose. Poem by Sandra Kavanagh Josefsson

You looked like a rose.
So beautiful and rare.
Your eyes of cornwall blue.
Your golden locks so fair.

But with every rose,
as everyone knows,
comes thorns as sharp as knives.
Which you only showed,
when you had to deal with the strife.

For you were strong,
You had learnt by the hard knocks of life.
It was hard to trust.
To believe the lies.

For in this world you had learnt,
there are not too many who are true.
More snakes in the grass
Slithering around.
Who'd take their pound of flesh,
Before you could make a sound.

So continue to be who you are.
For those who matter will always be around.
And the others will hopefully slither away,
like the snakes they are and make your day

Verse: Sandra Kavanagh Josefsson (c) .