I wish I was a rose

I wish I was a rose
Then my petals would be thrown around for good
And my thorns would hurt, but not in the bad way

I wish I was a rose
Then they would pass me by and admire my colours, my curves, my smell
They would be gentle to hurt a rose, which is able to hurt them

I wish I was a rose
They would look at me in their garden and sigh "such a beautiful thing to see out the window"

I wish I was a rose
They would take care of me if I begin to wilt suddenly
They would give me the best water, manuring
They would weed the ground in which they once planted me - a small sprout, humming "where did your bourgeons go, my darling?"

I wish I was a rose
And when I'm finally dead, they would dig me up, shake the roots from the soil and wet sod,
rough up them, then put me in my last place
My stipe is weather - beaten and my leaves and all my peduncles and petals are pesky and irksome I have a feeling
I am a rose now I think.