The Florist
Never was a florist profound as he,
Arranging blooms in a glorious feat
Those small posies held marvelous verses
Peach blossom leaves dance in backs of hearses
Freesia and hibiscus linger unworn
Blank hands no scratches, unsoiled by thorn
Reputation unscathed by anything,
Nor the young peasant “held” under his wing
Who holds scars but still an undisturbed smile
Though another not seen for a long mile
Wrapping himself around his precious arts
On he slaves, like a man hunting for hearts
While the peasant labors, does what he can,
Calm as an ocean sits the unworn hands
Salute is taken by the unworn hand
As for the scars, he still kneels to this man
*Each flower has its own meaning, according to “A Victorian Flower Dictionary” written by Mandy Kirby. I have incorporated this into my writing so that a flower can tell the story.
Peach blossoms - I am your captive
Freesia - lasting friendship
Hibiscus - delicate beauty