A flower, gorgeous and lovely while it is growing but when it stops it will become fragile, weak and it will wither away until it is nothing, that is just the nature of it. Doesn’t it seem as if the flower dies for longer than it lives? Am I just a flower? Something born to give others joy for a short time then become a nuisance and die at the neglectful hands of man. Maybe that is why I feel the way I feel maybe that is why the end seems so beautiful. The water in the vase is dumped down the sink and never thought about again. But as for the flowers thrown in the trash gone forever never to see the light again, like humans, thrown in the dirt never to see the light once we are dead. Invaluable, lost, gone, only a memory. Is that what will happen when I am gone? And what if I’m already gone?