A Sonnet

In the garden where I roam
Elves and Pixies make their home.
Many insects there abide
under leaves where they can hide
from those great big hunting things;
some with claws and some with wings.
The aphids are my biggest blight;
for Ladybirds a tasty bight.
My roses Aphids do devour;
they’ll eat a bush in just an hour.
Though sharp thorns grow long
on Roses where they do belong
for a Rose by any other name;
surrounded by pricks – what a shame.

About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
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