Castle :): Still

Amidst the fields, a humble thistle grows, In purple crown and guarded by its thorn. Its spiny leaves in stubborn beauty pose, A fortress wild, defiant, and forlorn.

The wary hand that reaches soon withdraws, Yet still it stands in glory’s sharp embrace, Untouched, the subject of no plucking laws, Proud in the sun, fierce in its chosen place.

Yet softer still beneath its armored guise, The thistle yields to nature's gentle hand, Its fleeting bloom a gift to watching eyes, A hardy flower in a barren land. Though fierce and rough, a beauty there remains, A tender heart beneath its thorny chains.