by any other name
Henceforth, I shall not choose the rose
Its wafting scent upsets my nose
Nor will I write for no one knows
The difference ‘twixt a poem and prose
As roses are the bud of choice
For lovers with a silenced voice
Delivered by a workman’s hand
In packaging now damp and bland
Hence, I’ll choose the dandelion
Sunrise colors signifyin’
The heat of passion’s rising sun
That moonlight's whisper will not shun
For roses are and so shall be
For counting coup on fools like me
Copyright © John Lawless | Year Posted 2024
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