As I walked along the bricks,
So carefully carved,
I look down upon my feet stuck in pricks.
I sat down,
The chic summer dress dirty,
And I frowned.
A bright thing,
The color of blood,
Not even in the middle of spring.
The whole area is covered,
With flower petals,
Who hovered,
Ever so slightly,
Above the ground.
A thorn here,
A thorn there,
Thorns everywhere.
I was in the land ,
Of a Thousand,
Roses. How grand.
