Consider the Tulips

The dozen or so tulips stood tall in their vase,
shrouded in pastel cowls,
faces turned towards the ceiling.

One genuflects fully
to the table,
perhaps exhausted
from the effort of being admired,
or falling faint at the sight
of its missing roots.

Another, just behind,
leans over the glass rim
to look on with quiet concern,
then sadness,
for the plight of its neighbor.

With each morning,
one or two more follow
their comrades in repose,
however some did their best
to ignore fate,
longing to know the world.

Lowering their shrouds
to receive the sun,
they took up interpretive dance,
acted in local theater,
started journaling,
lost weight and
meditated for hours.

Over time
they wrote long dirges of prose poetry,
attended lectures on wine tasting,
held dinner parties inviting flowers of other breeds
to show that they were open minded.

Some contemplated pollination with other stems,
but chickened out in the end.

As their petals aged and began to fade,
they curled like the arms of a Flamenco dancer,
begging the sun for one last kiss,
another day to find the answer. 

Copyright 2019 by C. Max Schenk - all rights reserved, like bacon fat for re-fried beans