Colin F. Jones

REALITY

Gentle buds grow in the hearts of nettles
That blossom and bloom unheeded,
For often only the stains on the petals,
Are by critics ever conceded.
But even the brutal are docile
When nurturing and nursing their own,
Though ‘tis only a few yards in the mile,
Tis not always that their gentility Is shown.
Yet we must eliminate the nettles that sting,
That the more gentle people may grow,
That to humanity the humble might bring,
Peace to a people without any foe.
Yet what is the Rose that embellishes no thorn?
Can there be a sunrise without any dawn?