A Word is a Flower

A word is a flower
Alone and desolate
Empty and pathetic
A deserted word is a weed
A dandelion beaming vile yellow
Alone in patch of vibrant Hydrangeas
But a batch, a bouquet
How beautiful. Every word
Mixed, mingled, obsessed
With each other.
An inordinate pattern that
Stops your breath.
Some words are special
They are the abandoned rose
Inside the sweet red lips of your lover
Remarkable, really.