In the wide fields of grass,
Where only grass grew as far vision would last,
Stood proudly in the light winds of spring,
A flower, glistening,
It had traveled a long way,
As a seed in a bale of hay,
Dropped by a solitary traveler,
Who, had forgotten to travel lighter,
The flower stood emitting his fragrance,
A light waft, like vanilla essence,
For miles and miles there was no other,
None to compete, none to smother
In his glorious fragrance,
A light waft, like vanilla essence
One sunny day, in the middle of summer,
As the wind blew and let out a murmur,
The flower looked around to see,
How far his kingdom stretched in glee,
Only to come upon a young sapling,
Coming out of the earth, grappling,
“Hello!” said the young one,
Cheerfully and full of fun,
“Isn’t it a beautiful day?”
With a tone so happy and gay,
And as the last words had been spoken,
The young bud began to open,
The poor old flower stood gaping,
Not being able to perceive what was happening,
Bright colors of yellow and green,
And a smell so serene
But still the flower stood frowning,
As his pride was drowning,
Now he wasn’t alone to stand,
Now he had to share his rightful land,
Suppressed by the young flower’s innocent glory,
Thoughts and plots he conjured, so gory,
He schemed to not stop until the young one was finished,
The flower turned to a monster, bloodthirsty and famished,
The monster’s conscience, hidden inside,
Silenced the monster, oh yes, it defied,
Seeing what it had become,
With sadness was the flower overcome,
He flooded with emotions and with guilt,
Depressed, he began to wilt,
Seeing his only companion weep,
The young flower decided to keep,
His old friend from giving up,
To help him perceive his cup,
Half full and not half empty,
And teach him to live in plenty.
