Poem Y

How creative it might wind
The thorny rose of elephants roaming
And plants that don’t grow in the water
Or getting go with music rap
Or letting go with balsamic vinegar swap
Its all a pain
In the carnal sanguinary
I am sure pigs blood
And you are surely wrap
In a second I will hide
Behind the child and his laugh
It is so cute
And so defined
I am a mother
Without born

RC