I Don'T Know Why Some Flowers Bother
I don't know why some flowers bother,
To unfold their petals so late in the day,
At this time of year,
When there is such a nip in the air.
They might as well have stayed tucked up in their bed,
As come morning, I will only have to cut off,
What is left of their head,
With no chance of giving them even one peek,
In the hallway mirror,
To see themselves in full bloom,
Or to become the centrepiece on a well laid table,
For the guests to marvel at,
And comment on their rare beauty,
As they gently fondle their delicate petals.
Oh, what a cruel fate awaits those flowers,
Who fail to show up at their appointed time,
Giving no thought to the weather,
Or for the one getting out of bed to cut off their head,
And replace them with ones from the corner shop,
That will see themselves in the hall mirror,
And become a centrepiece at the table.
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