Underneath The Mountains Of Beauty Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Beauty in a shop without a care:
Underneath a mountain, collecting the weather
Like a bouquet-
Let us diadem her, let us make her wet:
Beauty, where are you:
Stepped out into a forest fire
The bears are bathing in- and the velveteen
Antlers dance like multiply spears
Amidst the canopy
Where all of your favorite animals can finally
Talk- speaking of that ruckus-
And about there somewhere, a rose bush
That used to grow over the grave of our love-
Now a cenotaph of thorns
Where beautiful maidens go to prick
Themselves and sleep for a thousand years-
Beauties underneath the mountain who
Haven’t a care.