A long stemmed rose / Wrapped in cellophane
I got off the train and went to the bus stop. There, sitting all by itself on the dark green bench, was a perfect long stemmed red rose. I was really struck by it. Who would leave such a perfect and beautiful thing sitting on a bench. Didn’t it have meaning to them? Was it a gift from someone, or for someone. I didn’t want it to die, so I took it home.
Roses are pretty / but talk is cheap / and I only want a man / who is there for me
Just a little poem about the common gift that men like to give to women. Not that I absolutely hate getting flowers but I don’t think they require much thought and I’d much rather see them alive. Also….the flowers in this poem represent dif types of relationships… (needs to be kept alive…ect)
Each one that’s boxed costs more than my socks, / My watch, my tie, and my suit. / But, I must come through with one or two / Or forever be …
All about those nasty, money-draining roses
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