I bloom with love yet carry a thorn, In gardens and poems I’m often worn. My name is past tense, yet still I grow What fragrant riddle? You surely know.

Family with the thingamas, both jig and Bob, a name for a thing when it's name you forgot. Aquatic aristocracy has it with gadgets aplenty, It is grim, I'll let you in, Don't feed him four hours after twenty.

My touch brings forth the automnal decay. In my breath I carry the winter brisk. If you find me do not cry and whine. It's not my place to decide when spring or summer come for you. You can only accept what lays beyound. Who am I?

You fall into me when the door is locked, I take it all the heat, the shock. Sheets get tangled, breath runs fast, I hold the moment till it’s past. I’m where desire slows its tread, Soft below, but firm instead.

My first five: after the sun has set My last four: a horse capable of bearing offspring Together: what has you waking up in a cold sweat