We oft see beauty first – the rose,
…Before we see the thorns.
Allure is put forth on display
…While Satan hides his horns.
An angel smiles; it may be his,
…For others fell with him.
Beneath the dazzle, there are times
…The heart is dark and grim.
The lashes flutter o’er the eyes
…Of lady who’s in bloom.
But darkness lying in her heart
…May bring her lover doom.
When in a courtship by the fair,
…With beauty the allure,
What guarantee, beneath the leaves,
…There’s nothing sharp, impure?
A lady or a garden’s bloom –
…I mull a mystery:
If I should clasp you to my breast,
…Will blood then flow from me?
© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2016.