How you prick me so!

Out of spite or love that grows?

No one knows, that’s for sure,

You’re a mystery in your vines

That tangle my almost lies.

I wish you’d know

How much I’d shower you,

With sunshine and water.

Your loving grace and jubilant face

Is my heart’s delight.

There’s nothing in the world I want more

Than to pick you out as my flower.

If you do not want to be picked

Than that is fine by me.

I will still be willing to

Love you without the strings.