By Jim Davis

 A rose blooms in a dark and barron land. I pick the rose as night falls and
 take it home. I call to the rose, young and sweet. Not letting go, I wait for
 the night. As i hold to it, the blood run down my hands from the thorns.

  I cry for life to end the darkness as my tears falls to the blood soak
 ground. Night falls, I close my eyes for the on coming demons of the night.
 The thounderous silent of the night rips at my heart. I open my eyes to the
 heavens for the answers and there was none.

  From my hands i saw a light, a small still light slowly pushing back the
 darkness, A rose calling to me, speaking is a small still voice answerng my
 crys for help.

  Then thounderous sound breaks from the young sweet rose. The light breaking
 forth as to do battle with the demons of the night. The bright light overcomes
 the dark night as sunshines in the dark land.

  The ground shakes where the blood and tears mix, a rose breaks though the
 ground, giving life to a dark and barron land.

 by jim

              Jim Davis can be reached at JDavis1076@aol.com

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