Thorny vines grow up my heart's wall.
Slice it open,
and out dust will fall.
Spurs grow and bury,
and dig real deep.
Lift up a rock,
and out the truth will seep.
Blow the leaves,
knock 'em down.
Make them fall,
to the ground.
Let the breeze,
pull at the roots.
And don't forget,
the new born shoots.
The pr*ckly stem stabs the pain,
bringing on,
the acid rain.
Wash it out.
Make it grow.
Watch the waves,
put on a show.
In the desert,
you gave a spark.
Look at the flames,
grow in the dark.
The fires burn and rage.
Look at it eat,
the thorny cage.
Without the vines to hold it together,
it fell to the ground,
in the rainy weather.
In the muddy dirt,
it took seed.
Water and feed it,
and pull up the weeds.
A tiny sprout,
came out of the earth.
It grew and thrived,
and giggled in its infant birth.
It opened its petals,
in the morning sun and dew.
In the center,
it offered my heart anew.
Up into the sky,
the wind it blew.
It offered a heart,
from me to you.
By: Roy Quebedeaux