Barbed Beauty

Delicate and sweet like a desert flower,

Though daring, not without her whetted thorns.

Thriving come sun, withstanding come thunder

Storm. Noon, midsummer, the brazen sun burns

In wintertime she doth not wilt in vain

Come spring, she grows anew, vivid, en volume.

Simply glimpse her colour, to ascertain

Her beauty, Inspire once her scented plume

And fall faint, where soon your love will fester.

The virtuous alone may take her a prize,

Though she demands respect from her keeper;

If un-watered, her ebb will be her guise.

But, I prefer her out in the garden,

Thus, the bees and the birds are beholden.

The End

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