Roses are red with sharp thorns that bite.
Violets unholy blue,
Those roses bright red are full up with spite,
Violets are pretty tho rarely speak true.
Tulips are for kissing,
Not sure what they're missing.
Lilies are scented,
They're lacing the air,
And the green grass tells tales to the trees,
cos they listen,
The speak of the chap who cuddled the girl,
but they never repeat cos they just wouldn't dare.
Beneath the rocks the fairies do dwell,
with all seeing eyes but they never tell.
The garden's full of secrets,
That's where they lie,
Everything happens there says the all seeing eye.
But the house-folk, never know why they're looking,
Perhaps they're playing I-Spy.
(C) LIVVI