I doubt you'll realize my intention
Trapped beneath swirling apprehension
A wreath of Violets* adorns my neck
As I shuffle the cards of my loaded deck
Might this vessel's song draw your attention?
It must be the most beautiful convention
Flames of passion smolder in glorious tension
Trade me the gentle Larkspur* over the Lavender*
Lead me not to the naïve Columbine's* blender
Might I draw you into my gracious dimension?
From the old we'll draw their reprehension
They'd never understand our infernal ascension
In my hands lies a crimson Tulip* and its hero
With great care, we'll grow an enduring Yarrow*
Might this journey be fraught with little tension?
I pray thee put me not in your heart's detention
For I cannot endure thy anguished suspension
Gift me a chance of playing on your stage
Until you decide, I'll seek the wisdom of Sage*
Might I receive thy hearts blessed pension?
I hope this goes without mention
This electric connection goes beyond prevention
Feed me not to voracious Snapdragon*,
My old enemy. For I'd rather have Tarragon*
Might thee gift me knowledge of thy intention?
Information on the language of flowers found at: https://www.almanac.com/flower-meanings-language-flowers
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