Flowers,
A thing of beauty,
Suffer much to make us happy.
Even facing the knife
To bring joy and comfort
In our sorrow, brokenness,
Discouragement and pain.
Flowers.
They're often given in romance.
Or to celebrate birthdays,
Anniversaries, and almost every
Holiday known to man.
Flowers.
How we love them.
And in their native tongue,
They speak to our heart
In no uncertain way.
Flowers.
They make each of us
Feel special, as if we're the one.
They are forever
A sacrificial friend.
Walterrean Salley
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sacrificial-friend/
