A thorny Rose!
Some folk, they say the nicest things,
Hollow though, the truth it rings,
From a shallow well it springs,
Others too, with nose up in the air,
Cannot smell, the flowers fair,
See not their all, but beauties flair,
And then there is the other, that with neither bothers,
Leaves all that smelly thinking up to others,
Only happy thought she mothers,
Like changing diapers on a tram,
Her sweetness, do not others charm,
But rather, do their noses harm,
And sure enough, for some you see,
What you are saying, is cheese to me
Although, for you, it might be brie
Though holding nose, to close of air,
To not, that smelly stuff to share,
Soon, will cause the brain despair
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Georg
Blessings and Love ~~ Micke
blees you
Tuchy