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Saving Innocence
I am thinking of a rosebud that is high up on a shelf;
That is infixed, seeming guarded, by the thorned bush in the vase,
It is very newly budding on a stalk all by itself,
And amongst its full-bloomed siblings, verily looks out of place.
I am looking at a lily, young and new and on the water,
Leaves out-spread and basking cleanly in the early morning sun.
In the brakish underwater, two large eyes swim quickly after.
For that lily, sparkling silly, must the toad defile for fun.