Classic Poem

Lysi, I give to your divine hand
these chestnuts in their thorny guise
because where velvet roses rise,
thorns also grow unchecked, unplanned.
If you're inclined toward their barbed brand
and with this choice, betray your taste,
forgive the ill-bred lack of taste
of one who sends you such a missive —
Forgive me, only this husk can give
the chestnut, in its thorns embraced.











Used by permission of the author.