Lively, revelatory little tale, Max, cleverly composed.
Bill
> On 8 Jul 2015, at 11:46 pm, Max Richards <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
>
> from a derelict garden
> just round the corner
> I plucked a rose,
> took it home to her,
>
> my wife sick in bed.
> She smiled, inhaled,
> placed the rose-vase
> beside her head
>
> settling for a needed
> good night’s sleep.
> Next morning - another
> bad night it was - stung
>
> in the dark by - see? -
> those black live specks
> that came in on the
> petals of the rose.
>
> I can’t see them.
> Rose, art thou sick?
> The invisible mites
> swarmed in the night
>
> and found out
> her pale cheek
> for their appetite.
> I’m binning you quick.
>
> Aphid? - or thrip?
> None would skip
> a plant for a human.
> Rose, I acquit you.
> Wife, something
> else bit you.
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