A short prose about the flowers in the tiny garden
Life in the garden
It goes deep,
Watch the stabbers and pokers especially those that sit on the throne and poke you when you don’t look.
And what do we have here?
A fallen rose petal.
Oh, Rosie rose,
Who stands next to me,
The yucca and the rose in the garden
You behave as if you are the only beauty queen in the garden.
Do you think that you are the only one who can stretch to the stars?
Oh, I hear all the glory you get for being ruffled, the showy ruffled petals that you wear.
Yes, I agree, you adorn those petals well.
Well, you haven’t see how handsome I am.
I, too, can stretch and reach
I, also, can impress.
Now one of your soft, ruffled petals, have fallen,
Fallen straight into my spiky green leaf,
The spiky leaf of a never noticed Yucca.
Some of them out there, they can’t even say my name as smoothly as yours,
Yea and even a less know about my beautiful tender blooms,
But that is their loss if they don’t get around and see my cluster of beauty around them.
Yes, rosy petal, my blossoms send off sweet fragrances, just as my shoots reach straight to the blue skies,
My scent even gets stronger under the darker blue skies
But here you are, fallen rose petal,
My arrow pierced you,
Oh, are you expecting an apology?
But how could you?
I hear that you do this kind of number quite often with your devilish thorns,
And my when you poke do you make them bleed.
It’s not funny,
When it happens to you,
Is it, rosy petal?
What bed do we drop to when we fall, oh beautiful, delicate rose petal?
Fragile, you too become that you can’t quite know.
You that sit on the mighty rose thorn have fallen,
Not in the rosebed this time?
But in the spiky hand of a handsome equal.
Yucca blooms