You said you don't want flowers—they'll die here in your home.
There lives a husk and shadow where the beauty used to glow.
How sad it feels, as endings near, they're not with us anymore
but beauty in impermanence is a beauty to adore.
For it's true, that we too, are here but for a time;
the fruit that swells, grows and dwells, may die upon the vine.
Ain't it sweet — ain't that neat — that before the church bells chime
if you want to taste the sugar, you must catch it in its prime.
I'll buy you pretty flowers because I like the way they bloom
I'll pick all the lovely colors, put one out in every room.
They may just last a week or so then they'll wilt and so it goes
let's take a second, see the beauty. Stop and smell the rose.
