The petals fall, the flowers rot

But in the end, it matters not

All that counts, is the thought.

Of the flowers you gave to her.

Now the fragrance, of a rose

Dims as it does decompose

Still gives beauty, to the nose.

Of the flowers you gave to her.

The memory, fresh it stays

Regardless of how many days

Yes, she might still be in a daze.

Remembering the first flowers you gave to her.