I saw a man walking with flowers one day,
I thought to myself he surely is in love;
He must have a spring in his step,
And I knew he was blessed from above.
The next day I saw the man, and again he held his flowers,
I wondered why he was so fortunate;
He had a woman who loved him,
And my luck was irregular as the passing of a comet.
The third day he again passed my window,
The third time he chose a different colored bouquet;
I wasn't quite as happy for him,
As he walked down my way.
The fourth day I saw the man, his flowers fresh yet again,
I began to feel a little jealous and angry;
Maybe he was trying to show off,
That he had it all, and my life had grown blandly.
On the fifth day I had had enough,
I followed the man, to learn why this was the way he behaved;
As we entered the cemetery, I was shocked to see,
The man had dropped the final bouquet of the week, on his wife's grave.
