Wild-rose

...and they coax her to 'come! Come to this mall and that mall and see what money can buy! Run to the coffers of jingle; fill your fingers with its lie... but she knows a mall of green field and blue sky where wealth is a wonder money cannot buy...

She is wild rose

Wandering

In a garden

Whispering

Muted things

Pen must descry

Of melody

Coin cannot buy

She is bond-servant

Of quill

Not by force

But her free will

Wild-rose wandering

The wind

In the willow

Understands

She is loyal

To the trust

Of a poet’s

Wanderlust

Wild-rose ever

She will be

Beggar-bloom

Of poetry

© Janet Martin