The Thorn

It hurt
sharp and deep
Twisting the heart
Making me weep
Then it faded
with time and sleep
New tidings
covered it deep.

Buried and forgotten
I thought it lost.
Sometimes with longing
I still sought
Happy though
That it was not
Bothering me
I thought.

Then came the fragrance
of a flower in bloom.
Raking up memories
Of the thorn that seemed doomed.
A sharp jab to tell me
that it lay still within
Biding its time
taking me by surprise
Clouding my thoughts
making me wild
Confused and unhappy
pacing awhile.

Then it faded again
leaving me in peace
Content and happy
in the present bliss
But never do I forget
that it lies hidden
Sharpening its claws
to tear me in
Less than a minute
of remembering it
Just when I think
I have forgotten it.

Other poetic attempts: Tearing through the Blue; The Tiny Drop