(February/'47 / Connecticut, USA)

Do I Look Like A Rose?

Do I...
Look like a rose?
A mixed hybrid,
That pricks when picked...
If not carefully held,
In an anxious hold.

Do I.
Do I...
Look as if my beauty exists,
For a quick lift...
For you to run off with!

Do I...
Look as if,
I have something to give...
With an offering found,
To be irresistible?

Do I.
Do I...
Look as if my beauty exists,
For a quick lift...
For you to run off with!

Do I...
Look like a rose?
A mixed hybrid,
That pricks when picked...
If not carefully held,
In an anxious hold.
To sit and wither to watch...
As we both grow old?

Do I, do I...
Look as If I'm that kind,
Of rose to behold?
I could be.

But if overnight,
You decide not to treat me right...
I can also bite!
With a stinging done,
You will never forget.

With a pricking you will wish,
You had never chose to pick!
With a scent that will not soon leave,
Your swollen nose.

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