I bought an orchid for my girl,

but she made me give it back.

It’s too beautiful a thing, she said,

and I would be afraid to harm it,

it is so fragile.

But as I left the nursery,

the orchid whispered to me,

“bring me home. She will love me

and take care of me. I am just a flower,

wanting a home.”

The next morning, I went back to the nursery

and found the orchid,

waiting for me,

straight and preening,

and excited

and brought it home.

And my girl pretended to be angry with me,

for almost two or three seconds,

and then I saw her brush her lips against the

orchid, and then whisper to it,

and promise it that she would love

it and care for it.”

And the orchid winked and me,

and whispered, yes, I know.