Spoken by a flower in a market basket, the poem is a plea to a passing stranger, addressed as "my friend." The flower doesn't want to be sniffed, admired for a moment and tossed back. It wants to be held close and truly taken in. It points to its colour, its scent, and the dew still on its petals, as if making its case.
Its wish is modest. It would like to decorate a beloved's hair, or soothe her eyes, and remind her of the giver's love. Underneath this sits a simple belief stated in the poem: that love is all that is worth anything in the world.
The mood is tender and gently sad. The flower knows its life is short and accepts being a "fleeting memory" before it is scattered to the winds. The closing questions feel less like complaint than peace. Being given, and meaning something to someone, is purpose enough. Readers may also sense a human voice behind the flower, longing to be cherished rather than merely glanced at.