I’ve been pricked by many a rose.Drawn by the petals that attract me,
Reaching to grab that which exalts my heart,
My thoughts redundant to the pain
I bring upon myself with such careless folly;
Causing my blood to flow and stain my flesh
With such blush of self conscious arousal,
Making me retract my initial advances
And simply admire her aesthetic frivolity.
Are you that girlThat passed me by on the gilded earth?
Gave me an attack of epistaxis?
Back then, when I’d resigned myself to a future
Where we’d never meet.
Are you that girlI saw almost a lifetime ago,
In another age?
Or am I merely imagining that you are-That girl who caught my eye and threw it back,
As if we’d found one another in an instant;
Falling in love for a moment.
Or did I just image itAs I imagine it now?
Anthony Ward tends to fidget with his thoughts in the hope of laying them to rest. He has managed to lay them in a number of literary magazines including The Faircloth Review, The Pygmy Giant, Jellyfish Whispers, Turbulence, Underground, The Bohemyth, Torrid Literature Journal and The Weekenders, amongst others.