I love Mark Halperin's poem about tulips.
May our failed hopes rise like tulips
Out of the cold ground,
And, when we look around,
There our satin bowls are, chocolates,
And swaying, velvety clarets, aglow
With memories of help we thought would
Appear and beliefs we watered.
And we do have something to show,
goblet-like reminders of our stubborn
labors – or we don’t, and refuse
odorless flowers and choose
to live without consolation.
First published in River Styx, issue 61, 2001