|
With hair the colour of chestnuts
And eyes of cornflower blue.
She was a gardener’s daughter
And knew a thing or two
Of flowers
So he made her a tussie mussie
That spelt out a message with each
Bloom telling of his devotion
In that old and secret speech
Of flowers
T’was a posy of ivy and iris,
With red carnation and rose,
Saying “I love you, I want you”
In the wonderful, colourful prose
Of flowers
It was days before she answered,
With a response like a nettle that stung.
A bouquet of sad withered blooms
Saying “drop dead” in the soft tongue
Of flowers.
Frank Brown ©
|