Forgive Me
The old tangled bramble
Stretched thorny arms one spring,
Reflected on his gnarled life…
Do I regret anything?
I’ve sheltered fragile birds
Within my thorny arms,
Kept them from danger
Kept them all from harm.
A man came to the bramble
With evil in his cold eyes.
Roughly he chopped away.
If he could, the bramble would cry,
“Why did you cut me down?
Why did you shape me like a wreath?
Why make this man wear me,
With blood and sweat beneath?”
The old bramble shuddered.
It saddened him to look down.
Forgive me, sir, he prayed.
They’ve made me – your crown.
Brenda Kay Farber
