“A rose by any other name will just smell as sweet,”
Or will William Shakespeare just as well chose any other flora?
“A violet by a mossy stone, half hidden from the eye,
Fair as a star when only one is shining in the sky.”
Did not William Wordsworth ask any other flower to tell him why?
So will his daffodils o’er hills and dales at a glance’
Showed their wile’s by blooming as ones
So that he could not help but fell in love at once?
Unbeknownst and foreign to me these flowers are,
To remember a line from a poet not yet forgotten
“Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
and waste their sweetness in the desert air.”
Undiscovered was my flower, not alien, a Filipina
Very sweet scented, demure and pure as sampaguita.
I dedicate these lines to my wife, Alicia.
I first saw her as a bud, not yet a petal.
Hiding among leaves for something/someone special.
Did fate and fortune contrived my destiny?
An immigrant bee from a place far far away
Settled very near her garden just yesterday
So that now, she was only a breath away.
To describe her beauty to the reader would be an abuse
To account for her attributes I dare not impose
Suffice it to say that a lover’s inner eye perceives the essence
Of a flower of her class can possess in quantity and excellence.
Do time and age steals away a flowers’ color,
To transform bloom to seed and lose its’ grandeur?
Married life has its zany breezes and gales, sunshine and gloom.
But my flower just bent with the wind and weathered the storm.
Never a petal surnamed faith, love, hope or charity did she lose,
She shall be named Everlasting throughout our married life until its close.