Look at my stately stature and bright
Colours of lilac, green, pink and bold
Reflections of a shady shimmer of light
You cast when you venture out looking for gold,
Blinding me with your torch in the dark of night.
Beware of deception when you behold
My solemn disguise and when you delight
In beauties and visions squeezed into the mould
Of your wishful mind, and things that might
Not be as they seemed when fables foretold
How everything would be all right
If you came close and reached to hold
My tender hand which from sheer fright
Would harden as my angst would fold
Its leaves to leave a fist clenched tight
Smashing our dreams of warmth to spiny cold.
For only bees who return to me despite
My sticky pollen to drink my ripened old
Nectar may take a rest from their flight
On my petals. So if you too want my gold
Be patient and gentle - and touch me not quite.