A flower for you, but what’s the right type?
I used to think you liked daisies, but perhaps I’m not right.
I could pluck you a lily, or even my favorite white rose,
But in the end, it matters not, for I may never know.
Remember the summer nights, when the breezes were warm?
And I’d drive to your house, whether clear weather or storm.
When I’d catch that first glimpse of your face so lovely and sweet,
It seemed we had two hearts that couldn’t wait til morning to meet.
I knew not what to bring, other than myself.
So I’d always come with a flower, you could set on your shelf.
That way when I left, when the sun came about-
You’d have something to remember the nights we snuck out.
Perhaps I made a mistake when picking what kind,
A fool I have been, acting so blind.
I should have brought a carnation, or better yet a forget-me-not,
So in your heart I’d remain, even when the petals would rot.