A black rose in a dark grotto,
a sensation; do not pick it, let
it shine unseen and let poets
write about its hidden beauty.
But the adventurous could not
hold back money and fame
in the offering. When the rose
was finally stolen and brought
into the light of day, it turned
out to be a timeworn nylon
sock discarded by a tramp who
had been given wooly socks by
the Salvation Army…. Mittens
too and boots for kicking cans
down the road of seer's light.
Splendour in nights of dreams,
mystic, beguiling, yet in the end
just an old rejected sock.
