I’d never even heard of Sweetest Day before I moved to Wisconsin. So for years, I’ve largely ignored it. It’s always seemed to me like just another fake holiday developed by the jewelry and flower industries to generate revenue right before the big holiday push. This year, I am observing the day with my sweetest. However, likely without jewelry or flowers. And with that, here’s a little poem I hope will make you think twice before blowing your hard-earned cash on roses this year.
Bring Me Weeds
If you’re going
to bring me flowers,
bring me weeds.
A sweaty handful
of dandelions,
Queen Anne’s Lace
from the roadside,
have always meant
pure love, true affection,
“I like you.
Do you like me too?”
The crackly cellophane of
store-bought flowers –
beguiling baby’s breath,
cloying roses,
sweet like aspartame –
are ominous symbols,
sinister foreshadowings of
betrayed trust,
premeditated apologies,
murmuring,
“Please forgive me,
I’m about to hurt you.”
~By Amanda L. Webster
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