The flower once said to the tree "When will my beauty be shown?"
A subtle answer with a seasonal change.
All the flowers are in bloom and spring has arrived.
The flower still repeats a previous asked question. "When will my beauty show?"
The tree still as silent as the dark lonely nights.
The flower is screaming at the tree
Frustrated with greedy thoughts of pure narcissistic nature.
After hours of pleading and screeching at the tree the tree spoke.
His words were hollow and heart peircing.
"Never." He whispered.
For the flower had been so consumed by psyhical beauty it had abandoned thought of internal beauty.
The flower distraught at the tree's harsh words the flower began to whither.
Until all that was left of the flower was crunchy petals and dried up leaves.