Bound. wrapped in cellophane.
Such a paltry price for slaughter.
Marked down, overlooked again.
Fading, in a bucket of stagnant water.
I could weep;
a compassionless waste.
Never gift me cut flowers.
In growth, in life out in rain and sun;
they hold their beauty and their power.
I would not call you thoughtless
nor say you are not trying.
In truth;
it saddens me to see them
condemned to be admired
while they are slowly dying.
Kathryn McCone Usher
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