Roses for the Show
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I am clipped, groomed, and posed and ready for the show.
The judges have their eye on me; I am sure I’m all a glow.
The time draws near; I am poised with heads held high.
What’s this? A man approaches, his hand my stems do grip. Oh my!
Then his steps so gracefully among the crowd do glide.
He whispers to a lovely lady, “A bouquet for my bride.”
The judges come and go with pens their marks to my dismay.
Genteelly she inhales, the prize forgotten, this my inclusive day.