Picked flowers in a vase
through phototropism
still reach for light with grace
in short struggle, schism
A servitude bouquet
its buoyancy endeavored
for just another day
after their roots got severed
Each stalk struggling upright
trying its shoulders pulled back
corolla may look tight
but soon too in grieving slack
Gently drops each petal
knowing not of haste
bounces softly, settles
demise calmly faced
In a few days all die
serene in their goodbye