The one perfect stem
with its wagging
purple tongues
flirts as I walk by:

Hi, there.
Aren’t I lovely?

And I stop, say,
You so are,
seized by the desire
to possess, however
momentarily, such
beauty,

wanting to pluck her
from her birthplace,
take her with me.
But to do so would
doom her to a quick
death.

Instead, I smile,
beguiled by the familiar
floral come-on,
make a photo of
her gorgeousness,

thank her for this
lovely bit of purple
seduction on a sunny
spring morning.