A course-correction knife was plunged too late.
A smile was still, upon her lips, that date.
Clueless, for most of life, the cherries, green.
Her shoulder-bluffs and high-peak cheeks are seen.
She stands five feet, barely a statue-bold.
Appears quite warm with bundled arms of gold.
A pointed thumb at chest level. A charm
Bracelet does shake with silver-fake alarm.
The lyrics play a lycra-schmooze with stretch.
Uncanny walking cane, amidst homestretch.
A slide puzzle, her wrinkles crash and burn.
Only then, girl, a happenstance upturn.
A giving tree, with scathing sack of seed.
The dandiest scatters of yellow weed.
A field not quite a rose, with weaker stems.
A chosen path amidst headstones - few gems.
But remembered, oh yes. Her name engraved
and youthful picture set. ‘Tis what she craved.
Dandiest of lions, roaming freely in your fertile field,
Feral kitty don’t succumb to pressure, let not your spirit yield,
Lie in the sun, relax, repose,
You are of the field, as of the garden is the rose.
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