Third in the series
By Steven Curran
The Rose Calamity
Have you ever really looked
At a boquet of roses
The eyes and the ears
The mouths and the noses...
For when you do buy them
They are pretty my friend
But has anyone ever told you
What takes place start to end...
They are put in a vase
That is filled half with water
And herein the beginning
Of all the disorder...
At first they stand straight
Seen by the naked eye
But can you see their legs and arms
Oh no, its no lie...
They reach out to choke
The other one's stem
With the most pompous of attitudes
They could never be friends...
It's a fierce competition
To see who can last
And the ones that wilt over
To the nether so do pass...
For the last rose is standing
All others have died
And to her mighty glory
An ill-fated surprise...
In short time comes the human
With outstretching hands that thrash
Firm grip upon the roses
Snatched up in a flash...
And for a brief moment
If that rose only knew
What was considered victorious
Was a farce through and through...
Thrown away to the garbage
Together laid to rest
And the biggest lesson learned
Interdependence or death...
Next time they will work
Together as one
To escape the evil vase
And RUN RUN RUN...
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All contributed content © Steven Curran (Haunted Hayride) 2009
