I give her a rose.

She takes it with a smile.

I pick her some daisies.

She laughs; I’ve made her happy.

Well, if it’s flowers she wants, I’ll plant a whole garden! 

Every seed is worth every penny; 

Every hour is worth just a glance.

I show her what I’ve grown for her;

She is confused. She pats my shoulder:

“Very nice,” and then she is gone.

Maybe I need more tulips? Perhaps she likes those? 

Or maybe it’s lilies? 

She says I have a green thumb! 

I’ll plant a forest for her. Anything, anything.

Rosemary takes root because it matches her eyes.

Plucking petals daily:

She loves me;

She loves me not.

An oak tree for her to read books under;

She loves books. She has a new one daily.

A bench so her dress won’t get dirty.

Seventeen rows of rose bushes;

I hope for seventeen smiles.

I wait for her to visit again, to call.

I lie in her garden at night 

To make sure it still looks beautiful when the sun is gone. 

She comes the next morning.

“You should be a gardener!”

Anything, anything for you.

She smiles and she does not stop to smell the roses. 

I rip them up;

What thorns?

Anything, anything. 

Blood turns pink under the faucet.

Someone has left a voicemail.

Slippery hands leave a dry towel on the counter;

Slick palms cradle the phone.

It is not from her.

I go to dry my hands.

Then I hit play.

“Don’t you know that she doesn’t even like flowers?”