A wild rose is a lasting thing
Growing amongst the ruins
Full of life despite neglect
And you know the place one blooms

A wild rose is a pretty thing
To decorate your room
All pink and leafy splendor
To cheer away the gloom

A wild rose is a thorny thing
Its vines tear you apart
You can’t grasp it directly
Work gently towards the heart

Push aside its catching strands
Leave the petals strewn
Take the freshest flowers
For more will blossom soon

A wild rose is a stubborn thing
You may plant it if you dare
Take a cutting from its base
But make your choice with care

For a wild rose is a feral thing
You can’t charm it to your will
Forever spreading beauty
Is its nature to fulfill

A unique glint compels the eye
Towards desolation
Pluck a stone from the desert floor
For examination

Would faceting reveal a prize?
Do its flaws void its worth?
Could it ever shine so brightly
It seems not of this earth?

Yet inclusions of baser stuffs
Are threaded through its veins
Harsh mineral imperfections
Which this beauty contains

They cannot be excised, you see
It would transform the stone
Into a hollow, pitted thing
So best leave it alone

Just drop it back into the sand
With spots you so abhor
Another hand will pick it up
One who can love it more