To view a flower such as thee,
to garden home I'd stretch my feet.
I'd sit among the plants all day
and contemplate their windblown sway,
their soft green limbs that climb the sky,
and vibrant petals please the eye.
What use they serve I cannot know,
for waste of space is all that shows,
and while those small lives may still thrive,
for you that path is but demise.
The rose may grow within this world,
as fruitless life becomes unfurled,
but you who naught but see thy self,
in stylish dress and hoards of pelf,
can grow no more than mere seedling,
and be naught but the life you cling.