She admired her bouquet of imported roses
As she placed them in her crystal vase
They came from Italy he said
As he dialled the phone to his boss
On the other side of town in a small domain
She was awakened by a gentle voice
He handed her a bouquet of wildflowers
She was touched by his choice
She waited all day for her husband to come home
A fancy meal was prepared by the chef
But there she sat, all alone
Since the morning when he left
On the other side of town in her kitchen so small
Pasta and sauce were simmering on low
She was waiting for him, in her best old dress
A wildflower in her hair with a bow
The expense was not spared for the first woman
Yet she felt very poor and sad
The woman on the poor side of town
Was thankful for all that she had
When flowers are given from the heart
And splashed with a sparkle of affection
It doesn’t matter about the cost
It matters about the intentions
