As you depart the florist's shop, do you ponder?
Where will your exquisite petals find rest?
Whose nose shall delight in your delicate fragrance?
Whose face will ignite with joy upon beholding you, a symbol of love, joy, and solace?
Does sorrow grip your heart
Knowing you'll sleep upon cold marble tonight?
Your vibrant hues fading amidst nocturnal whispers,
As moist air withers your velvet softness.
Or do you find solace in comforting departed souls,
Whispering, "Fear not, dear departed, you're not alone.
Feel the warmth of my giver's love,
And if coin for Charon's ferry is lacking,
I shall gladly be the price."
Or does wounded pride assail you,
Stripped of regal grandeur,
Your radiant beauty marred by mortal touch,
How dare they diminish your splendor?
Tell me, oh queen of blooms,
Which fate befalls you?
Before you answer, know this:
Of all roses, you stand as hero.
