When I saw the flower, it had already been picked

I saw its roots 

Dark and full and filled with dust

Yet still visible

I saw its stem 

Brilliant green, somehow still strong 

against the ever-present sun

I saw its flower 

Unusually large for its body

So much so that it perpetually tipped over

Overflowing the world with its loud, effervescent colors 

The older woman next to me, who tended the garden regularly

Saw me standing in awe at the picked flower

And told me this flower had been blooming 

For thousands of years

So I asked her, “how could this be”?

She looked me dead in the eye and said, 

“You know this strength”.

And I asked her, “what flower is this”?

She looked me dead in the eye and said, 

“You know this flower”. 

Its petals winked at me with the wind. 

I closed my eyes in pride and peace.