Have you seen a prickly pear,
That blooms in the desert air,
Warns with its leaves spiny flat,
Stay away from me, beware?

But if its thorns you would dare,
And a prick or two do bear,
You'd pluck the fruit, sweet and fat,
A delicious juicy fare.

Me, with smiling face so rare,
Can to that cactus compare,
If you don't leave it at that,
I'm a friend, times foul and fair.

Note: I do not have a 'smiling' face and have often been told that I have 'intimidating air' . I wear both as an armour. My friends (I have a wonderful group, words cannot express how much I adore them all) often laugh at the general impression I create. But by an intriguing contradiction, I am often approached by strangers seeking directions, in the cities I have lived and those I visited (Even in London, where one could 'see' that I am not 'European'.) I have long given up trying to reconcile the contrary impressions I create.