Poem for Thursday

This Thursday, an old nursery rhyme.

Moses supposes his toeses are roses

But Moses supposes erroneously

For nobody’s toeses are posies of roses

As Moses supposes his toeses to be.

Poem for Thursday

I saw you last night in the gathering,
But could not move to take you in my arms,
So I put my lips next to your cheek,
Pretending to talk privately.

– Rumi