I was a budding flower, On a vibrant green vine, With so much hope and promise.

However as I started to bloom, My vine began to brown, Yet perseverance won out.

Slowly my petals opened, One by one, Surviving on little nourishment from my vine.

Still I bloomed beautifully, Gorgeous and Radiant, Smelling so sweetly.

I caught the eye of many, Picked just as I was fully in season, And put in a glass box.

I wasn’t watered properly, I was given little sunlight, And my dazzle started to get snuffed.

I began to wilt, Ever so slightly, On all my petals.

As each year passed I wilted more, And more, Changing hands from one person to the next.

Until finally the last to hold me, Gave me water, Let me bask in the sun. Took me in both his hands and crushed me.

So here I lay, On the ground, Pondering the point of my bloom.