I Wonder What Flowers Think Of Valentine’s Day
A poem of love and wonder
I wonder
what flowers think
of Valentine’s Day
Do they yearn for the season
they get human validation
Or do they wish
they could talk
against the cruelty, I suppose
shame,
they are fooled to think
they are loved and adored
just to be cut
right off their roots
and served as an offer
to the ones
we are truly fond of
Flowers are gorgeous
but dead, they are, too
you can keep them preserved
but can’t human corpse, too?
Yes, eternally beautiful
yet eternally dead, too
I wonder
what flowers think
of Valentine’s Day
Do they scrutinize their purpose
Do they call for a god
Do they ask
Why was I,
planted and grown?
Only for my corpse
to be dressed
and then sold?
Bought as one,
or a dozen,
or more
to which you would smile
even cry out of joy for
How could you, Do they ask
Rejoice to the presence
of my lifeless form
Why would you, Do they wonder
Use me as a symbol
of the love you can profess
on your own —
through actions
and words
without having to deny me
of a life
I deserve
Do flowers wish
they could get another day
under the sun
soaked in the rain
swayed by the wind
with the rest of the ones
they came to grow with
Do they cry out of pain
in grief
or in anger
as the ones that raised them
cease their one true value
to become
a flower
in a bouquet
in a ribbon
or fancy wrapping paper
I wonder
what flowers think
of Valentine’s Day
do daisies see their beauty
and compare it to love
breathtaking,
alluring,
magnificent, all that
Or do roses instead
compare love
to the wilting petals
they have
dying
transitory
and soon will be gone
