They place them in your hands,
smiling as if they’ve given the world,
yet never once asking
what grows in your own soil,
what scent carries your childhood,
what petals remind you of home...
They speak of beauty as if it is theirs to define,
never knowing that the flowers wilt quicker here,
that their stems snap in the unfamiliar air,
that you watch them droop each morning
and feel something inside you bend the same way...
U