by Sylvia Plath
I’m a riddle in nine syllables.
An elephant, a ponderous house,
A melon strolling on two tendrils.
O red fruit, ivory, fine timbers!
This loaf’s big with its yeasty rising.
Money’s new-minted in this fat purse.
I’m a means, a stage, a cow in calf.
I’ve eaten a bag of green apples,
Boarded the train there’s no getting off.
**If you figure this out and by some strange fluke know my parents, please don’t tell them. We’re having dinner with them tomorrow and I want to tell them in person. 🙂