Columbine – photo by Devonne

He loved her uniqueness,

her untamed form

for she was wild,

delicate, and unadorned.

So he picked her,

and took her home

Then put her in a golden jar

and set her on the table

so others could admire.

She sat there in her watery grave

removed from the earth

the wind and the sun that gave

her regenerative life.

Now with no roots

she withered and died

He watched and lamented

Then tossing her away

He angrily cried.

What’s wrong with you

what happened to

the beautiful wildflower

I once knew.





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