Forgotten
Forgotten are the times when we used to speak through flowers
When was the last time you received a bouquet that meant more
More than the sweet scent
and dazzling looks
It has been forgotten that these small,
sometimes insignificant plants
speak a language of their own
Everyone knows that red roses mean
romantic love
but it has been lost that you can say so much more through these blooms
A language is not limited to love
it is hate, hope, and a touch of jealousy
if you only take the time to try
A language that doesn’t rely on verbal communication
Makes it feel as though
you hold some new kind of power
Almost like casting a spell
The flowers are the ingredients
And the words are the result
A white periwinkle
And a bit of phlox
Alliums and pine
A plum blossom
And a touch of poppy
To us this means nothing
But it once meant
A delightful memory and sweet dreams
Patience with a bit of hope
A kept promise with the light of imagination
