A flower torn

I saw a flower, full bloom in fall, vibrant as though in spring.
It’s color was gentle, full — petals silky smooth — leaves green.
I ahhed and gasped, bent to see
Its essence.

I looked it over carefully, examined its root and stem.
I considered its beauty, saw how it added so much to the garden.
Wonderfully intricate,
complex, fine.

Thrilled, I plucked it and took it for my own pleasure.
Now it sits in my vase, growing pale, fading, losing vigor,
Left alone, its beauty would please me
and others as well.

What a fool. Better to love the flower in its place
Than to steal it away From it’s garden showcase
and its nourishment.
What a fool.

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