I, so they say, am the flower for new beginnings. Why, I have no idea... my stem is slick, and sharp with thorns that prick anyone who dares to touch me. I'm guarded, red as blood, and I really don't understand why they made me the symbol of this. Truly, I don't. Beautiful, perhaps, and delicate, but isn't every flower? Yet I, so they say, am the flower for new beginnings. A fresh start.
I am wrapped in paper now, sitting in the lap of a humble human. I say humble because he isn't playing with my petals, bending them and pulling of my thorns. Instead, he almost welcomes my defenses and beauty on his lap. His eyes are glued in front of him, above the pew that is in front of us, and his hands lay still at his side. There is a voice that speaks, echoed and respected, but I can't make out the words.
Suddenly, he stands up, his hand now surrounding my stem that's wrapped in paper, tapped on the bottom. It's awkward, I it probably feels the same way a formal dress would on a lady-- I hear them complain a lot of dresses. Of course, they say they look pretty, but I think I don't look pretty, wrapped in this cheep silvery paper.
He walks over to the large stage, in front of everyone else who sat in the pews, and they silently follow him. The voice is no longer talking. Instead, it's too quiet. He brings me to his chest, one of his tears falling on my pedals, and there is a human laying in a long box. She looked beautiful, golden hair falling gentle down the sides of her face, but just like the room, she was too quiet-- so still. 621Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnUCkFlUSzq
Laid all over her, I am sad to express, were many abandoned petals, no longer with the safety of the stem. They were red, intense, but faded, just like the human. I am set down, slowly watching the ceiling fall and the woman grow closer, surrounded by petals, surrounded by beautiful silence. Surrounded by beautiful death.
A new voice begins to speak, slow and cracked, not strong and steady like the previous. And here I lay, in a box with a too silent and too still woman, littered in petals.
Yet I, so they say, am a flower for new beginnings.
Rose621Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡakOH2VSAuI
