The bouquet that you’d begged for
begins to appear the way you feel.
You’ve never asked for much,
you just want something real.
Someone you don’t have to beg for kindness,
overtly honored to be your home.
They’d never toss a gift on the counter
in exchange for leaving them alone.
‘They _are_ really pretty,’ you relent,
through eyes tingling with tears,
‘They got me my favorite flowers,
finally...