united over thorns and ripe roses.

Not every promise is a bed of roses;

roses too have thorns that pierces-

and we know time heals, but times change

sometimes time kills,

wrecking bonds once golden.

But stormy seas have calm moments,

like a dull sky

that craves for the morning sun,

our goosebumps will be smooched.

We've gardened roses,

our palms intones anguish of the thorns-

thus, arms interlocked we walk,

United over thorns and ripe roses:

Now and forever.

© Bunguswa Brian ™