I was created for beauty
I've been protected by thorns
I'm the gift of a lover
I'm the beauty of life
~
If you enjoy this writing please consider supporting by liking or leaving a tip. If you want to see more follow my page to get notified when I post. I post every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
~
More content you may just enjoy:
Hope you enjoy my short story called "A Perfect Rose". It embodies the meaning of the metaphor of a rose. There are a few more chapters so make sure you're following so you don't miss them!
About the Creator
Anthony Terry
Hello, I like using poetry and music to help connect people and find the meaning of life. We all have our own unique stories and I want to share mine to hopefully inspire you to share yours!
Keep reading
More stories from Anthony Terry and writers in Poets and other communities.
The beauty of life
Life, at its best, is a fleeting dance of moments, each precious and unique but intertwined in the intricate tapestry of existence. It's a voyage through time, a symphony of events, emotions, and relationships that combine to form the fabric of our personal and collective stories.
By Mercy Raymond 2 days ago in Poets
She loves me
She loved me. When I was small and my wee stayed to the paper. When I was rumpled skin and floppy big paws and big eyes looking up and waiting for her hands to find me, scooping me up and bringing me into her. And we were happy, so happy, so very, very happy. I was so happy to see her and danced my circles so she'd know how much I wanted nothing more than for her to hold me. I'd wrap, wiggle, wiggle and wrap my growing body with my bestest happy dance, slumping and kerplumping into her warm parts just like she liked me to. She was there and I was there, and we were there together, and it was perfect. Oh, how she loved me! We spent all our time together, playing inside, outside, up, down, going round and round. And she petted me and called me good girl when I made poops, and sometimes when I weed in her front yard or the neighbor's, and I was the best girl. For her, I really was! And she scratched me behind my ears, and it was heaven. I aowooo my joy! And she aowoooed hers too.
By Christy Munson6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (3)
So beautifully written, just like those roses. Loved your poem!
Just like hurdles help us move forward.
Roses are nice.