O’er the marrows apparent lust,

inevitable like auburn rust.

Alas I long to see

the gold beneath the brown-red crust.

Oh how happy I must be,

for the auburn rust has hidden me.

I haven’t a need to fuss,

for I am hidden but also free.

But deep inside a treasure is hidden;

beautiful words yet to be written.

My beloved secret locked inside.

Beneath the auburn rust do you see it glisten?