Woman, may I compare you to a rose?
The rose is short.
You are tall.
The rose is narrow.
You are shapely.
The rose stands still.
You move, you are liquid grace.
The rose wears one fragrance, pleasing enough, but only from up close.
You wear many fragrances, ever changing with your shampoo, soap, toothpaste, and perfume, and methinks I can sniff them from a hefty distance.
The rose has prickly thorns.
You are soft and smooth, from your nose tip to your foot.
The rose keeps wearing the same colors.
You change your colors with your clothes.
The rose without her petals, she is nothing.
You without your clothes, you are everything.
The rose has for admirers caterpillars, butterflies, and bumblebees.
You have me.
The conclusion to this incomparable comparison?
The rose, no more than acceptable;
You, woman, oh, spectacular!
You are everything a rose isn’t.
Which is why this verdict I have sent,
Not to the modest rose,
But to you.
On the 8th of March in Romania and adjacent countries we celebrate Women’s Day,
that is to say,
men give flowers and other attentions to their mothers, sisters, sweethearts or lovers
‘You are lovely and beautiful and I love you much,’
and the women accept them replying,
‘We know, we know,’
and kiss their men on the forehead, cheek, or,
on the mouth,
and feel happy all day.
Due to geographical and financial inconveniences,
it was impossible for me to give you,
spectacular woman reader of my blog
flowers and other presents,
so instead I have compared you to a rose,
hoping that this comparison of mine
will not entirely displease you…Image copyright: SayuriEyes on DeviantArt