Primrose Day
By Mac
The promise of primrose day Filled with thorny protrusions Between smooth green stem Lies a path of ill born illusion Where the dreams of primrose Rest solely between her thorns And luckless pricked fingers Lead to angry words now sworn Yet the primrose is silent Choosing not even to hear Her thorns ever protecting A promise thus held so dear The primrose day grows short Her thorns dripping of red Countless pricked fingers Trying only to get ahead The primrose day is over Her promise kept so well None found her treasure Only sharpened thorny hell Written October 7th, 2001 © on Oct 07 2001 12:33 PM PST, RD McManes 0 • 1
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"The promise of primrose day..."