Why have we not a coin from Nature's store
That bears dear Mother Nature's lovely face,
As she, bedecked in garlands or in lace
Could promise us fine, minted gold or more?
Could she not make 'selections' per her will
Who finds in everything she makes a flaw;
Who waited long for man to hone his skill
To make a gold doubloon he never saw?
Must she (perfection lacking) but destroy
What she (experimenting) did create
Who terminates the 'fool' who seeking joy,
Laments the implications of his fate?
Why grants she not a coin that would defray
The cost incurred in life by him who'd play?