I’d doubt you’d call me sugarcane,
Nor a bloom from wild and bitter roses.
Never one to boast labels, simple or complex;
For even though my soul can move mountains,
a heart that truly loves can do the same.
Take notice of what the moon reveals so generously….
I’m no angel, for my wings do not expand.
Take heed, I am enslaved by no man.
I’m a sprig of mother nature, a hothouse plant.
Never free to use; warning… addictive…