The Flower

March 10, 2012
The flower with it’s supple leaves
Blew in the wind
It had a rich green and earthy stem that supported the
Soft white petals sprouting from the creamy ivory center
Thousands of cells employed in that organism
All doing their job right
Absorbing the chlorophyll from the sun
Drinking the water from the Earth and the rain
“If only I could be this flower”
The young woman thought

“What if life were this simple?”
She said aloud this time
“What if I could be this elegant
This effortlessly beautiful,
Waiting for someone to come along and pick me
To make them happy
And fill their house with a pleasant ambiance
People awing at my beauty
With everything working the way it should”

“The flower doesn’t have imperfections
The petals were soft and white
It was tall and graceful
Dancing in the air
Each leaf crisp and healthy
Something I could never be
Stumbling over my toes
And aging with the days”
The young woman rang out.

Then she thought
“This flower is too precious to pick
With it’s supple leaves
And the way it sways in the wind
It should live out here
With everything working right
And beauty exuding from this patient life”
So she walked away and
Leaving the charming flower
To twirl in the breeze.

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