Thistle in a desert place
Robed with ragged, thorny leaf
Orb of spears, first budding face
Cruel, protective sheath
Spark within sentinel of swords
Awakens delicate desert flower
Pushing forth to wield its charms
Of beauty’s conquering power
Though few the first, flow’rs multiply
Till rigid thorns are crowded ‘bout
With lovely veil & gentle song
Who thorns’ sharp chords drown out
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