Poem Hunter
(February/'47 / Connecticut, USA)


Poem By Lawrence S. Pertillar

She was told it would prick,
If she put her hand on it.
And sure enough it did.
I slide her hand
Between both of mine,
And rubbed!
She noticed then,
How small the prick.
Thinking it to be bigger!
I assured her it was not!
Showing her how to hold it.
And from then on...
We both enjoyed the Rose!

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