Flowers are love and beauty in death,
Baskets and bows, laced with babies breath.
Bouquets or wreaths it's a lasting measure;
To receive them is grand, a thrill, a pleasure!
Expression in sympathy, anguishes and sorrow.
For a joyous occasion, today or t'morrow.
A symbol of love, an apology of regret,
A gesture in thought for someone just met!
Roses are red, will you be mine?
Love's in the air, Happy Valentine!
Be it for grief, amour or joy,
A wedding or funeral, a baby girl or boy.
Mostly in death we look at its virtue,
'The flowers are beautiful'! Isn't it true?
The meanings are vast, so much emotion.
Pick you some up when you get the notion.
A mixture of purpose in that of a flower.
So many relations just look at its power!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.