A bouquet of flowers is a sweet gift,
peonies pink, roses red, orchids white.
Stems neatly trimmed, wrapped and delivered swift,
a sign of care, igniting new light.
But be wary of ill-fated decisions,
of carnations, tansies, roses – yellow.
Of clumped, wilted bundles, inner collisions.
A sign, that love will not be what you sow.
Maybe, instead, find the seedlings for you,
and remember every flower can grow.
Water, sunlight, and the will to stay true,
could be enough, to see them bloom and glow.
And while flower language loses voices,
remember your right – chase your good choices.
Apr 26, 2025
Apr 26, 2025 at 1:04 PM UTC
A bouquet of flowers is a sweet gift,
peonies pink, roses red, orchids white.
Stems neatly trimmed, wrapped and delivered swift,
a sign of care, igniting new light.
But be wary of ill-fated decisions,
of carnations, tansies, roses – yellow.
Of clumped, wilted bundles, inner collisions.
A sign, that love will not be what you sow.
Maybe, instead, find the seedlings for you,
and remember every flower can grow.
Water, sunlight, and the will to stay true,
could be enough, to see them bloom and glow.
And while flower language loses voices,
remember your right – chase your good choices.