The Nettle

A pretty little petal,
Laden with a heart of sand,
Betrays the stinging nettle
And sets out across the land.

It withers in the sunshine,
But travels by the tide of night,
And when the crooked skies align
It glows its own peculiar light.

Picked up by a traveler,
On a roll and restless tumble,
When with its lustrous splendor,
It caused his horse to stumble.

Then on one still and eerie eve,
Its tiny heart began to stir.
It left that startled horse bereaved
And devoured the traveler.

A mighty big flower,
Unburdened by its own hand,
Causes wandering men to cower
And dominates this land.

But closely look behind its glow
And see a sight to grieve.
As its spines begin to grow –
A pretty little petal leaves.

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