Zoe’s Journal

It sat and bloomed year after year
Delicate windblown flower.
All who passed by upon the road
Saw and stopped to admire
Fragrant petals, transparent leaves
A token of life’s Innocence.
But deep, down deep, the flower was ANGRY.
Every year with the rising of the summer sun
She had to sit ALONE
Endure gawking fat noses
And pudgy inquiring fingers.
With every touch or admiring eye
The anger boiled faster, deeper
No outward way to express itself,
The pressure built inside
One night, the summer moon arose.
And the anger fell to Despair.
The next morning, the passerby looked
And saw the shriveled stalk
The petals blackened from the fumes,
Transparent leaves fallen to the ground.
He plucked the stalk from its dead roots
And crushed it down into the dirt.