A Rose
The ink will dry the words will fade
Some will print some will wither and die
But I must say my one true love
For you a rose in bloom am I
Sweetly scented softly textured
Run your hand down to my thorn
A prick will trickle yet a bit of blood
And I shall absorb it from your flesh
Place your nose within my bloom
Smell of me suck deeply a sneeze
Yes the bee has been here before you
And dabbled with his proboscis dusting pollen
Sorry my love to tease you with such
Tortuous gestures but than I am
But A Rose and you are a but a Man.
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