your likeness seems to me
a new one here,
invites me take you home.
My quandry is
to pluck or not to pluck
your perfect bloom.
We'd be a lovely pair -
your subtle shading,
velvet texture -
I could cut on slant your stem
that it may better
suck up water,
grace me with your
gift a little longer,
give color to my room,
capture me in fragrance.
I could simply walk away
and let you grace
your own small place,
this patch of weeds;
you're wasted here
among this scruff;
I'd be doing you a favor
just to snip you off
right now, take you home,
nurture you,
keep you alive an extra day.
You'll only die here by yourself
among these scrappy weeds.
So, do I slash you
for my pleasure
or let you die
to please these weeds?
Perhaps a humming bird would rather see you here;
I've never seen one near,
though butterflies and bees
surely would appreciate
my mercy, little unfamiliar flower.
To pluck or not to pluck?
Damn your perfect bloom!