The Thistle’s Lament
Those condescending Royals in their pristine
garden, primp and preen among the other flowers.
Their porcelain pale skin so fragile; they make
a wide berth, around me. I feel like a thorn
in their flesh, an oddity at best.
The stately cedar would not deign to give
his daughter to my son, saying she already has
a place at the palaces of kings. I bristle for without
this lowly thistle, their lives would be boring.
Why, they’ll be sorry to find me and my kind
honored on the Highlander’s Royal flag. One day,
my thorn will puncture the proud, topple them from their
high horses. They’ll slow down, their careless
stride and fall, as the thistle's prick is pulled from
their perfumed and powdered rumps.
Kim Patrice Nunez
Kim Patrice Nunez is an accountant and currently lives in Quezon City, Philippines. Writing is her passion. Her earliest works were published in the University of Nueva Caceres newsletter. In the last year she has been published at PoetrySoup, an international poetry site. Her verses have won several poetry writing contests.
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