In love’s hilarious game, my brother played his part,
With a rose in his hand and a hopeful, beating heart.
He offered her a bloom, so vibrant and so red,
But she, with quite the flair, rejected it instead.

For someone else had gifted her a whole bouquet,
Leaving my poor brother in a disarrayed display.
His face contorted into a comical surprise,
As if he’d seen a pizza fly right into the skies.

His eyebrows went up, his mouth formed a pout,
He scratched his head in puzzlement, without a doubt.
“Why reject my rose?” he asked, quite befuddled,
As if his single rose was a treasure to be cuddled.

He tried to hide his hurt, but his expressions were absurd,
Like a squirrel on a skateboard, utterly unheard.
But oh, the irony, in this bouquet affair,
As she strolled away, tossing the bouquet in the air.