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Violets

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A myriad of flowers waits atop a golden staircase.
It is mere dusk, the yellow sun sifting through the throng of clouds
Sitting gently above the hilltops.

A plethora of daisies waits among the meadow-like bouquet of these flowers.
A quaint violet sits quietly and contemptuously within the herd of these daisies,
Sticking his head up towards the sky in disgust.

Why was I stuck between these flowers?, he questions.
Perplexed, he once again turns his nose towards the speechless clouds,
As if he was expecting an answer.

Possibly he did this in order to once again show his revulsion against his cousins.
He detested the sight of anything other than his brethren, yet he was stuck among daisies.
Too bright for his tastes, he concluded with a pout.

Just then, the silhouette of a woman, dressed gaudily in formalwear, appeared against the stairs.
The delicate, anger-stricken violet saw the woman’s face turn aghast, and she
Suddenly pulled him out of the flock and exclaimed, “doesn’t everyone know I detest violets?”





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