The Flower Widow's Tale
   --Robert McFarland

The Widow's Prolouge

The raunchy youth concluded his lewd tale
Which left the preacher and his wife both pale.
The barkeep laughed; the painter just looked pensive.
"Does anyone have something less offensive?"
This from the aged scholar, "Tell me, who
Can speak of love from a more noble view?"
The widow turned to face the rude young man
Said, "I can talk of love, if any can.
I'm not the type to swoon at Diamond stones,
And social-Clubbing bores me to the bones.
The Heart and Spade are my most favored suits --
I know both love and flowers to the roots.
If you hope some young damsel to enchant
I first suggest that you, sir, learn to plant.
A bed that's sown of wild oats may bring
A pleasing bounty early in the spring,
But soon the bed shall waste away to weeds
And leave no fruit to satisfy your needs.
No pleasing blooms shall be there for the picking;
The briars left are good for naught but pricking.
A bed that's gardened well is sure to flourish
For steadfast care and patience serve to nourish
The very earth so that it can support
A garden of the most distinguished sort.
The man who sows his garden in a haste
Will find the soil forever more debased.
The fertile bed invites an early hoeing,
But, robbed of richness, makes for wretched growing.
     I've preached enough, now what shall be my story?"
"Oh, Dame Philosopher, an allegory!"
Implored the scholar, but the crone demurred.
"I fear my story-telling is absurd
I'm more a gardener than a novelist
The only metaphors I can enlist
Pertain to horticulture, though that may
Be just the mode for what I have to say.
Now listen well to what I shall impart
On cultivating flowers of the heart.

The Widow's Tale of Flowers

In Corpus, in the heartland of that nation
I set my philosophical narration.
The Gardener-King, who reins there, did decree
That all the people practice botany.
In gardening should man invest his labor
To show his loyalty to King and neighbor.
     Now if my message you would understand
You first must know the flora of the land.
Four different colors -- pink, blue, red, and white --
For four loves, of which Lewis once did write.
The color, more than any other trait,
The nature of the plant does indicate
     Pink posies of Affection can be found
Wherever other flower clumps abound,
Yet sometimes they are parceled out, alone
Against some odd tree trunk or random stone.
They often sprout where one would least suspect
And grow in places other flowers reject
Replenishing the soil; thus they sow
A nursery for other plants to grow.
     Now Friendship's flower has a sapphire tint
That gleams with beauty most magnificent.
These hardy, loyal blossoms long endure.
Each one is quite unique in it's allure.
One flower is a garden of its own
So elegant it well could thrive alone,
Yet, placed with others, shows much more potential:
Its splendor grows by factors exponential.
     The flower that's most valued in a bed
Nine times in ten is Cupid's Romance Red.
The scarlet hue has such a tempting pull
That one rose often makes a garden-full.
Some gardens may boast several, but you'll find
The flowers often are of different mind.
Red flowers are by far the most demanding
And thus require greater care and tending.
The work pays off when fragrance soft and sweet
Wafts through the air and makes your bed complete.
     White flowers are of greatest rarity,
For they are blooms of perfect Charity.
In all the valley, they most imitate
The specimens found on the King's estate.
The Gardener took the bulbs from His own lands
And sowed them in the arid valley sands.
The plants took root; the soil came alive,
Enabling future plant life to survive.
White-flowered plants, from stark sterility,
Have power to evoke fertility.
     Now with these flowers each man sows his plot
And keeps it free of briars, as he ought.
Since gardening takes a lot of time and care
I have some pointers I would like to share.
     The first insight that I would offer you
Is that all flowers are of but one hue.
The valley sunlight only makes them seem
To follow the forementioned color scheme.
Now don't despair:  you have not been misled,
For in the valley, all is as I've said,
But if you saw things from the Gardener's height,
You then would see that all the flowers are white.
While in the valley, follow valley rules
And sow your flower bed with valley tools.
From time to time it helps to keep in mind
That all the flowers are of the same kind
And adequate respect is due to each
(Which leads me right into my second speech.)
     The scarlet flower, as I said before,
Is oft' the one that people most adore.
Oh, certainly, it's worthy to be praised
Each time I try to grow one, I'm amazed
At all the myst'ries that I slowly learn.
However, I see reason for concern.
It seems folks think red flowers are the best
And, growing them, tend to forget the rest.
The others aren't real flowers in their eyes,
Or else they're of a much diminished size.
Blue blossoms when a red one was expected
Leaves such a person lonely and dejected.
Ironically, what lies beneath his nose
May be a flower more precious than a rose.