You ask me which name plant I’d be

When growing old in life’s estate.

To compliment your rose beauty,

To be your endless rose-bed-mate.

A bind weed, I, as clockwise turn

I’d wrap myself around your stem.

I’d follow not the sun’s harsh burn

But your love, shining as a gem.

My flower, white and simple hued,

Is nothing next to your sweet looks.

I am forgot as soon I’m viewed,

Your beauty traps worse than your hooks.

Your thorns are hooked and wicked cruel.

They rip and tear when I get near.

But to my love they are the fuel;

My love, my hate, my joy, my fear.

I’d hide your blooms ‘neath broad-leafed shade

Lest wanton bees attracted were.

Your sanctum they could not invade

For all, save me, I would deter.

I’d bend you down with all my weight

Lest, heaven tall, you’d me outgrow;

Lest you, our love, would desecrate;

Lest you, your blush, to others show.

If aught grew near I’d choke them down.

In coils of hate they’d turn death brown.

And when in my love you would drown,

In coils of love we’d compost down.