For every tulip that falls to the ground this Fall, I will think of you. And for every tulip that grows next spring, I will kiss you. No longer this season must I search for flowers to take home and forget.
For every lily that has ever bloomed, always summer soaked, I wish I could write you a poem. For every lily that has ever danced, in the winds beside so many lovers, I wish, so badly, to be those lovers.
For every yellow rose a woman receives next Valentines, expecting red, I’m sure, I’ll laugh, knowing you know my favorite already. For every yellow rose that blooms all alone, I hope it knows, somewhere, it’s already somebody’s favorite
