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To the Rose

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My dear, dear
rose,
what ever on earth
has happened
to you?
Who has set
you
upside down,
planted
your head in
the garden soil so that
the heavens
may
see the bottom of your
dancing frock?
Your dress and
knickers
have just so many
folds
as well as
layers and layers of velvety fabric
that
we can’t even spot
a pair
of tiny legs
kicking the air.
Yet you’re still so beautiful.
Everyone
comes round to see
your upturned
dress
and the old women
sniff
at your hidden underwear.
Nevertheless
you keep your
pride and
dignity
and make sure your
petals
are soft and full
then
sharpen
your thorns
so the young men
won’t dare
look
too
closely underneath.



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