I plucked a flower from a garden.
The best one I could find,
in hopes to find the answer
to a question on my mind.

I began to pull the petals.
slowly, one by one.
What will be the answer
when I come to the last one?

“She loves me…she loves me not.”
The petals start to fall.
How sad it is to realize
this flower says it all.

At times she seems to love me,
then on a different day,
she seems to be so distant
by the things she’ll do and say.

“She loves me not…she loves me”.
The petals disappear
And the last remaining petal
confirms my greatest fear.

Though it’s just a simple flower
and perhaps a silly game,
the answers from the flower
and my heart are both the same.

True love will one day find me
and how happy I will be
when a flower, and my heart
both tell me she loves me.

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