The simple things in life, flowers, kisses on children's noses;
Everyone says, "stop and smell the roses".
I prefer a lilac, a sweet, soft aroma;
The color of the wax insignia on my high school diploma.
Or maybe a honeysuckle, sweeter than day.
Singing songs on stage, a heart meant for Broadway.
Then, possibly a gardenia, a white multi-petal;
Floral smell, like jasmine tea in a copper kettle.
But never a rose, the smell sharp and acrid;
Red, pink or white, all color refracted.
So, can I stop and watch the sunset, slow into the night,
Instead of pricking my fingers, Mr. Fahrenheit?