I touched a flower in my pocket..
Picked it up, and promptly dropped it.
It's bulbous, squishy, and it's sopping.
I was afraid of what it was.

I took a closer look at its mutant colors;
Squinted at it for a second 'nother.
It felt like death, it felt like butter;
'Twas merely the head of a rose.

I sighed out the panic that had rushed inside me.
While sadness-stricken, serendipity survived thee.
The mere smell of that rose, nostalgic and lively
Wrapped around me and extracted my pain

Such a simple notion made such a difference.
I shall thank the friend by whom it was given;
He'll never understand the powerful significance.
That flower saved my night.