Abigail Rose blooms as she strides along-
Her efflorescence is in lush language.
When she spake, emeralds fall from her tongue-
King Midas admires the foliage.
Abigail Rose has thorns on ever' limb.
She is wild, elegant, musical.
Pricks fingers whilst playing the violin
viva la flora, soul’s convivial
A fairy, a muse, a siren, or may-
bee’s honeycomb color hair. A thinker.
By night, ponders and sips the milky way
Moonlit iris reflects, alabaster
Tis a sonnet for Abigail Rose’s-
future. A lone a rose blooms. A romance.