A jogger ran across the grass
and crushed the flower with his mass
The rose now had a broken stalk,
fell over when a mountain hawk
swooped down to rest on solid ground.
But from the forest came a hound
who, deeply, hated birds of prey.
In haste the hawk now flew away.
But, in his sudden, morbid fear
a pellet dropped out of his rear.
This did attract the hound’s keen nose,
with which he rooted up the rose.
The rose had cried thick flower tears
which are created during fears,
the hound was wearing winter fur
to which she stuck, he carried her
back to the village, and his house,
where he resided with his spouse.
A giant bowl of water beckoned
which he now drank within a second.
And when the bottom kissed his nose
off came the, barely conscious, rose.
The farmer’s wife brought out some stew
made from a Big Red kangaroo.
She rinsed the water bowl and tossed
the liquid out, the rose was lost.
Now, little Elsie, who’s dyslexic
bipolar and quite anorexic,
came from the house to play and sing.
She noticed that the poor old thing
a wilted flower, close to death
was breathing now her final breath.
‘EMERGENCY’ cried Elsie now,
quick thinking told the youngster how
she placed the rose beneath her vest,
deep in the cleavage of her chest.
Lo and behold, the flower did
come back to life, the clever kid
had given what all flowers crave:
A heartbeat and a pleasant cave.