A crown of blooms, a thorny crest,
Broncherry stands, a floral test.
With petals pink and eyes of green,
A guardian’s heart, on meadows keen.
Her whip-like vines, a fragrant dance,
Can blossom beauty, or cause a trance.
For pollen clouds, with sweet perfume,
Hold hidden sting, dispelling gloom.
But thorns protect a gentle soul,
That yearns for peace, to make hearts whole.
She shields the weak, with leafy might,
And guides lost souls, to find the light.
The whispers sing, of ancient lore,
Of cherry trees, in battles fought before.
But Broncherry seeks a different way,
Where blossoms bloom, and friendships stay.
Oh, Broncherry, of thorns and grace,
May kindness bloom, upon your face.
Let love disarm, and bridges mend,
A floral guardian, until the end.
For in your heart, where beauty lies,
True strength resides, beyond the skies.
And thorns become a gentle hand,
To guide and heal, across the land.