The Bouquet Poem by Robert Edgar Burns

Life is like a fragrant bouquet.
Delicate petals, start to dropp away.
Roots of such flowers, grow in shallow ground,
Blessing our existence, where they are found!

Life is like, a prevailing wind.
Knows not where it goes, only where it’s been.
It sweeps along, touching all it sees,
Stealing echoed voices, of you and me!

Life is like, a thorny bush rose.
Spectacular vision, and favored in prose.
Thorns mix with blood, when gloves aren’t worn,
Then dropping dead, shriveled and forlorn.

Life is like, a spectacular bloom,
Whose perfume lofts, soon to meet it’s doom!
It thinks not of, what tomorrow holds.
And is ignorant of, the coming cold!

Life can be like, a plastic bouquet.
For eternity’s sake, it won’t pass away.
But there is no odor, of fragrant perfume.
When springtime comes, no fresh sweet bloom!

In my lifetime, I may never be known,
But I have touched some, mostly in my home!
Before I’m laid, to my final rest,
Put a fragrant bouquet, high up on my vest!

Vanity of vanities, all is vanity!