Forever

In the field there grow lovely flowers, Growing beauty, for the world to see. But a gardener soon comes to cut them; An arrangement in futility. For all cut flowers are dead ones; Killed, dragged out by the roots- The bounty of earth, given all for free, We treat as our selfish loot. So we mark our days with dead flowers, Chosen special, for the event in mind; Dead carnations, for the paler dead ones Who've left their wilting lives behind. Dead roses for dead children, For bride's whose old lives won't survive; Dead boutonnieres, for bachelor's tears, Who in secret for the old days pine. Red roses, dead in a few days time, For the harpy or the shameless flirt- While everybody seeing them wonders About the facts; and what's the dirt? Dead flowers, from lover to beloved, Dead flowers, in cold glass stand, Dead flowers are our only answer; It's always been the way of man. Please don't give me flowers; No flowers, now or ever, No dying flowers, for my wistful grave- To remind how long, 'forever'