Why does anyone care for red roses?
Their scent alone is awfully violent
And the pain their thorns often impose is
Not worth the money many have spent
Yet still we oft worry about romance
And how important the rose seems to be
And yet one can say the same with a dance
The concept of flowers is lost on me
Why compare the beauty of a woman
To a small, frail, colored, and short lived plant
When one can actually be human
And speak to her in ways a flower can’t?
I know that flowers do spread elation
But I’d prefer a nice conversation