Trust Is Crust Like Skin Poem by James McLain

It is as little,
as the rose within your fingers.The tip of
one thorn, that wells
out it's dropp of blood,
on you, so true.
They dripp as a search is made for the vase, in water
at once cool and such it's stem grows bright and green.
Does not it trust you to bring back the scent of all that is
again?
The kitchen is warm, the oven hotter, the flesh within those
doors is potted, in trust, a must for who?
Upon your plate it's made and laid so golden brown, in
trust a must is once again your hand, it's you
it watches upon that skin.
It sits so cutely, a hope in prayer, in etiquette you trust,
your dictated yes a must, it hopes the skin from the barn
yard hen
you do not peal from the flashy, it is the best part......
Most are to hungry to argue..a stomach is such to you..