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 different breeds,
to show 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 towards the sky
like the arms of a Flamenco dancer,
begging the sun for one last kiss.
Copyright 2019 by C. Max Schenk - all rights reserved, like bacon fat for re-fried beans