"I hide myself within my flower,
That wearing on your breast,
You, unsuspecting, wear me too --
And angels know the rest.
I hide myself within my flower,
That, fading from your vase,
You, unsuspecting, feel for me
Almost a loneliness."
I bought myself ten flowers today and put them in a vase in my room. I don’t know what they are called. They last longer than roses and they have no scent. They give me joy and misery. Even, joy is rootless and it fades and it can be bought.
I am no good at identifying flowers. It’s a serious handicap for someone who likes poetry. I make no effort to learn the names. I never ask. It’s easier to hide when everything else is unidentifiable.