white little hillocks,
crowned by leafless twigs,
all brown and frail,
topped by the tiniest teardrops,
unflowing, 
enthralling,
glassy, not grassy,
so transparent that you can make out
all the way down to the bottom,
a bouquet, a banquet,
a real conquest
to have entwined round you,
i do covet
the carnation ringing
your index finger.
p.s: ss, you better get me an exact replica or my envy’s gonna melt it to opaque plastic 
@ andy:
pleased, very 