Poetry

A flower's duty in life

From seedlings and weeding to full bloom 
Little stems of joy that sprout 
From a heap of sand, fertilized by the waste of land 

Tending seasons come forward 
Blooming is in sight 
The duty of a flower comes knocking 
 From the burial site to wedding gatherings and newborns
They start to choose their poison 

Taken out of their roots they are met with similar breeds or bundled together with contending leaves 
To fit an occasion 

The duty of a flower is to bloom in the hands of new owners,
Who tend to their best of abilities but look forward to getting another

Slowly but surely they whither away 
From heads held up high 
To dead beaneath their stalk 

The beauty of a flower comes to an end when its duty is fulfilled  

~Jolae