They say you can’t turn a hoe into a …
Hel-i-cry-sum when I pansy how dandy that golden pothos would have looked in my kitchen.
Jasmine, Heather, or whatever her name is rather daisy dukes than sunflower dress, have Poppy give her Black-eyed Susans when she didn’t come back with enough roses for her tulips.
I wanted to go to the metal after the last petal was “she loves me knot” but my iris just stood there ox-eyed dazed.
I wish I was as patient as a carnation and waited for a cherry to blossom ‘cause I gave a new meaning to deflower.