Said the cactus to the rose,
“How I wish I were like you.
You are pleasant for the nose
And the eyes all love you, too.
People plant you in their gardens
And they treat you with great care
Then they give you to their loved ones
Or they wear you in their hair.
No one mulches me or prunes me
No one wishes I’d grow faster
No loved one wants me for their birthday
And wearing me’d be a disaster.

Said the rose, “You must be kidding.
I’m the one who wants to be
like a cactus in the desert
Standing tall and strong and free.
You don’t need a hand to tend you.
You don’t droop in too much sun.
No one cuts you up and steals you.
They take pictures, then they’re done.
I’m at the mercy of all people.
I have thorns, but still they pick me.
While you are left alone, defended
By your skin so tough and prickly.”

Said the bee to both, “Oh, zip it!
All you flowers are so funny.
All that matters are your blossoms,
and both work fine for making honey.”