There's nothing to be said about flowers
That hasn't already been said
Pretty little pastel pallets
For landscapes and scarves
Eight dollars for a real rose
That turns to dust at the
Midnight strike of its bloom
Eight cloth daisies for a dollar
Tucked behind ears and into boots
Until the plastic breaks down and then
You buy a dozen more
Eight cloth daisies for a dollar
But I've never learned anything about life
From something that wasn't impermanent.