Petals

Roses are red. Viole —

Actually, roses can be yellow or white, and I would like it if you did not stereotype roses this way.

Can we have one conversation where you do not make it about race? Just this once?

Fine, go on. I don’t approve of the premise, but let’s see what you discovered.

Roses are red. Violets are blue. I’d ra —

Well —

I KNOW VIOLETS AREN’T ALWAYS BLUE! LET ME FINISH!

Fine, so let’s say we are in this fictional universe, where the beauty of flowers being in multiple colours is stolen from them.

…

…

Yes, as I was saying.
Roses are red. Violets are blue.
I’d rather dance than talk with you.

Wait, but what did that have to do with the colours of the flowers?

Nothing it’s called a rhyme.

I know what a rhyme is. I blogged about it (here). What I fail to understand is the relevance of the rhyme to the rest of your thought.

Well, there is no relevance. It just sounds better and poetic.

That’s lame. It’s like me going:
Australia has Melbourne, Sydney and Perth.
How much are those peanuts worth?
Actually, now that I say that out loud, that does sound a much more fun way to get the price of peanuts

Well, peanuts are worth peanuts. Literally.

Yeah, I laid a trap for myself there, but that rhyme was fun. Alright, we cool. Roses can be red. Violets can be blue.

Don’t you like it when we end on a happy note with everything resolved?
Despite his fringe, Tintin was bald.

Nope, you ruined it. We had a moment, and you ruined it with your stupid rhyme.