It had quite elaborate dreams of its own,
to bloom and shower the world wit its
iridescent colours,
it knew that even in moment of inconsolable
gloom,
its beauty would provide a warmth,
a warmth only felt by the eye or the nose
because it never thought of the day it would wither,
die,
and get trampled by ungrateful and marauding souls
souls that have never contemplated their own ends,
But the flower smiled anyway,
Because that was the climax of its life
It had lived a life, often chocked by water,
and chemicals that did a whole lot of good,
they sustained it, the chemicals and the water,
until the day it was uncremoniously plucked
and the flower knew without being told
that the end had come - it could smell it,
it was nigh