tis’ rose she drew

tis’ rose

tis’ rose tis‘ rose

red/ purple/ shines

rolls and flows through

minds along my spines

herself awakened…

a morn’ had opened up

its sleepy eyes

not just one garden

in its corner’s tryst

where none dare to go

amidst strange thistle –

fruit on flapping wings

the dew of kisses trickles

rivulets down cheeks

denuded of innermost

secret thoughts

that spin a bubble

ill wind’s bad breath

ghosts-goat’s hairy feet

stall at the shiny knight’s

shielded body

that protects the budding

rose rose rose

petal dresses yellow/ white

and flames of red and purple

amidst electronic gardens

of pale pink dreamers point

their thorny pikes

never will a petal’ed beauty

ever fade or being pilfered

by any barbaric game

who’ll burn their claws

and goat’s feet

on their glow worm fired


a rose is a rose is a rose

she drew she drew

she drew.



One thought on “tis’ rose she drew

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