A spiked lattice of emerald green,
Dotted elegantly across the scene.
Embellished with juicy, crimson gems,
Sprouting from a prickled stem.
Slimy-looking, as it reflects sunlight,
And then matte, for the duration of the night,
Sharp, spiky arms, sticking out,
Yet, shrivelled up in self-conscious doubt.
Dusted with sugar, the colour of ice,
Sparkling softly in the sunlight slice,
Casting olive puddles on the ground,
Whilst the red berries sleep, safe and sound.
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