The Rose

Outside my mansion, as you dance as you shake Reminding me of, the old golden days When like flower gardens, my father and mother Tendered my whole, and dressed and fed As the wind blows by, you open like books In my head you write, the nice letter I send her As you shake by wind, you leave open her reply That seemed to win, the seasoned poetry prize As you welcome the bees, to suck your nectar In my stomach you remind, my generous granny Whose boiling pot she kept, open for our stomachs That seemed to wane, and eaten by hunger Your worst the thorns, protruding outwardly Your foes to bite, the hissing snake The way she spurt, throwing my boneless heart That seemed to split, my piece into pieces