Flower of the Desert (Poem)

This wanderer named Bob, he kept his hair long and his scent especially musky.

Followed a man into a foul plan; in the end his straw was drawn short and dirty.

Dumped in the sun to wilt by such men that tend to be tougher than charmingly witty.

I plucked him from the sand and now he adorns my stalk and vines like a rose from a fine, royal garden.

The birds circle near to squawk and cheer at his beauty with obvious jealousy.

I know his skin will crisp and belly will burst but I’ll enjoy him as long as I’m able.

That’s the trouble with corpses, I think I’d much prefer the living to be honest; I’ve heard they can last so much longer.

Yes, next time I’ll treat myself to someone a little bit fresher…


Art is mine. 😍

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