She sits in the sweltering sun,
Bone of plenty,
Her baroque design illustrated
Lashings of lavish lilies.
Their leather lips folded,
Collapsed and retreated.

Likened to the greenery,
They brimmed with envy,
And stroked each stone wall.

Bone dry,
She drank from the dew,
A bull’s horn,
golden halo,

glass canopy.