Here’s to the Bodega Flowers of New York City.

Here’s to the single roses in cellophane, the sweet over-eagerness of first dates.

Here’s to the pink and red carnations, the cluelessness of men incarnate.

Here’s to highlighter-colored, dyed daisies, so fake but so real. 

Here’s to the lilies, as white as milk and often more fresh.

Here’s to the blooms that arrive every day, 365, rain, shine, snow, or hurricane.

Here’s to the flowers, reminding us the someday spring will come.