Farewell flower. Spring has brought out the best in you. It shed light on the ground beneath which you hide. And out you came. Once tempted, you sprouted straight up, impatient and needy. Greedily turning your sweet little head to the sun and showing off the crown on your head. Look at me, I love me, come see, come pick me.
And yet there are more of you. Tens of thousands who are equally convinced of their beauty. When in fact your stem is weak. Your petals are frail. Your leaves wither the very moment you show yourself to the world. And so you die, well before Spring dissolves into Summer.
True beauty, dear flower, is the tree that stands strong through one hundred passing years. Unaffected by wind and rain and ice. Solidly rooted by inner strength.