Flo and Rose were lovers

they ran a florists' shop,

buds and lilies binding

a love they'd never lop

then Rose met a driver

new emotions but true,

she left Lily cut deeply

and eloped off to Kew

sick to death of flowers

Lily pined, got sick, died,

specified in her last will

no wreaths grave-side

her plot's tidy but bare

no blooms for her woes,

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I never saw such a posy of carnations

A flush that shade rose to my cheeks

They were delivered each day at first

Before long it was every few weeks

Flowers are yesterday and I know it

Reality can cope without fine blooms

The mundane stuff is more important

Like securing a set of cheap rooms

Memories of those sprays sustain me

Even now I can smell that African l...

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