Bruised Rose, Battered Shield

by **Eleswyr** Mon May 04, 2009 4:03 pm

A druid, looking a little worse for the wear, clutches a harp in a smoky, dimly lit corner of The Hungry Gaper. The instrument looks homemade - rather crude. However, the note rings true when she plucks a string. She begins to sing quietly in a husky voice that carries the tune well enough to be understood. She is no bard. However, conversation slowly dies down around her.

The rose just budding on the vine
The metal in the forge
Dream and hope to soon refine
Their true and perfect form

The full bloom of the yellow rose
Unspoiled by the dew--
And from the furnace brightly glows
The shining, burnished shield

Friends, such times will never last
As dawn must yield to day
But trials of life will also pass
And dawn will come again

For the rose, untouched, unseen will fade
And wither in the fall
The shield untried by any blade
Can shatter at first blow

The battered shield does well defend
The weak and faint of heart
Tho tattered, at the journey's end
The bruised rose smells so sweet

Yes, trials of life must surely pass
And dawn will come again

The druid slings her harp over one shoulder, dirty bare feet padding silently to the door. The door closes with a thud, and conversation slowly resumes...