Given green and waiting
Their very stem hollered anticipation
Waiting on a sun burnt door step
Wilting in the evening heat.

They'd been there all day
With a tiny note, hidden among the stalks
Not flowers as such, but lush enough
To say everything it needed.

Roses were gaudy and tactless
Blunt in everything but the thorn.
A sharp rebuff was possible
But the gesture just might be enough.