As it slipped off the shelf, the flower gave a growl.
It never intended to go on the prowl.
It’s against flower ethics to go off on one’s own,
unopened, unblossomed and not fully grown.
No flower’s a star. They’re all one of the bunch,
but given a shot at it, I have a hunch
that beneath every garden, the flowers below
are driven to rise up—to open and crow,
to greet the new morning and bask in its heat,
and that then they ‘d be off if they only had feet.
Their one chance at freedom is if they are clipped
and bunched into bunches, then bartered and shipped
to exotic places where the minute they’re sold,
they’ll be off to adventures and their world will unfold.
Then if perchance they are placed up on shelves,
they may tumble to earth to be all by themselves.
Short-lived as they are, they might think as they fall
from their limited knowledge, that they’ve seen it all!!
For Sunday Swirl’s Wordle 553, the prompt words are: star shelf growl slip open flower crow against prowl beneath beat shot.