The ones that didn't get burned - 3. My blue rose

Your rose it’s name is Kim, no?
She is so fine… so red and beautiful.
Curvy and slender

Mine? It’s name is Richard.
He is so fine…so blue and handsome.
Angular and strong.

You speak of your flower,
I admire it as well….
But I still love mine.

I cannot speak of mine though,
It’s a secret,
You cannot admire it as I do.

Don’t give me that stare,
I adore my blue as you do your red.
They are both flowers, no?

Different in appearance,
But ultimately they are both roses,
They smell the same.

They absorb water the same,
They bring beauty the same,
They come from the earth the same.

Mine is blue, yours is red,
But do your eyes only perceive the color and not the core?
I look at the bud first and then the petals, don’t you?

Mine loves the rain and yours?
She loves the sun too? What a coincidence.
What is different?

The more you water yours!
It begins to shrivel,
It shrinks and falls.

Odd, mine only grows,
That’s all it can do.
How peculiar.

Perhaps mine is better,
More strong,
A better survivor for all the water I give.

Don’t give me that stare,
Take your hand from my rose!
It’s not yours to take.

He doesn’t like the fire,
It burns him,
I reach in for him but you light the torch beneath my hand.

Give me my rose!
I love him so, like you do yours.
Mine is blue yours is red, remember?

Still the same,
Different colors
Why cant I have mine?