The Language of Flowers

In gardens blooming, secrets whisper,

A silent language, known to few,

Where flowers speak in nature's tongue,

Revealing tales both old and new.

Each petal holds a whispered word,

A fragrance carrying stories untold,

The language of flowers, ancient and wise,

A symphony of meanings to behold.

The rose, with petals soft and red,

Whispers of love, passion's embrace,

Its thorns a reminder of love's pain,

A bittersweet tale in its fragile grace.

The daisy, humble and pure in white,

Speaks of innocence and loyal hearts,

A symbol of purity and faithfulness,

When love's journey finds its start.

The tulip stands tall, proud and bright,

Declaring love's confession bold,

Its vibrant hues a joyful dance,

Expressions of desire, untold.

Lily of the valley, delicate and fair,

Whispers of sweetness and devotion,

A fragrant ode to tender love,

A symbol of pure and true emotion.

And the violet, shy and modest bloom,

Holds secrets of love that's hidden,

Its purple hues a subtle call,

To kindle flames that have been smitten.

The language of flowers, a poetry divine,

Through nature's gift, emotions entwine,

Each blossom tells a tale so fine,

A floral lexicon, a lover's sign.

So let us learn this ancient tongue,

The language of flowers, forever young,

For in their whispers, we shall find,

Love's symphony, eternally entwined.