My Love is Not a Rose

My love is not a rose.

I cut a rose once and placed her in a reasonable vase,

but it was as good as over the moment I handled her

and she just sat in my apartment looking sad

until I had to put her out,

all the while shaking my head at the waste.

My love is not a verdant garden.

I get lost in gardens when they are too expansive;

Abundance of delights and variation within species

leave me unable to remember everyone’s name.

Every time I meet another one with a colorful, beaming face

I forget the one I was interested in the day before.

My love is a simple green ivy.

I was looking for another blushing smile when I happened upon her;

she was all green without a single bloom to advertise her presence.

When I looked closer, though, I discovered fascinating patterns in her leaves

so I carefully moved aside the dirt she was living in and put her in my home

where she slowly took over my space.