united over thorns and ripe roses.

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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 ™

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