Everyone hated them and for good reason,

the last bouquet on sale this season.

They lay there patiently on the stand

waiting to be picked up and smelled.

Innocent goals, only to spread cheer and

sweet scents in the air and possibly

the lungs of someone treasured.


But to everyone else they were not

memories of silly childhood rhymes,

they didn’t taste of happiness sought

by painters of the (g)olden times.

All they seem to do, is leave a bitter

taste in the mouths hoping for

someone’s lips to meet theirs.


But god help me, I love them so

because when you buy them for me,

it’s out of love deeper than any sea.

Sweeter than red, warmer than the stars

that you put up in my skies, they are. So

I will hold this bouquet of yellow flowers

close to my chest, and breathe for now.


yellow yellow dirty fellow sitting on a buffalo

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