Little thistle,
a prickly pear,
how I never saw you there.

A little hair
with a little vine,
unbeknownst this could soon be mine

Never would I
have thought to choose
a little thistle of such blissful few

Fuzzy, wild, hairy, prickly,
startling and worrisome
if judged too quickly.

But great and fast grew my love
as your vines entwined, sweetly climbed,
and flowed upstream the beams above.

Down the pipes
and up the walls.
Now doth my heart now seek your call!

So oh, you know, don't mind me.
Just scootch it over for these ol' hobbit feet.

For when I pass and pick a flower,
time would say I pause an hour.

But in my mind, a quick sniff or two,
is nothing but my love for you

So little thistle,
if you please,
will you make your home with me?

Its not a lot,
but it will do.
For I wish to spend my life with you.

But if you deny,
I will cry,
but will send you off with just adieu.

Hoping, dreaming, bursting unseemly,
that I'm your love
in honest appealing.

Signed,
A Wild Flower in Sight of Love