glass coffins and their cheery contents.

i always have loved flowers...
i love having them sit beautifuly in a vase...
yet i pity them...
they grow their entire lives to be stared at, and then to die.
"it's a slow contradiction, beauty in a vase. it's when the cords are cut we begin to die..."

i love growing them... i like cutting them and arranging them in various ways in a vase... they can cheer up an entire room...
yet i always feel sorry for them as i cut them from their plant, take them inside out of the warm sun, and put them in a bautiful glass coffin for them to lay in state until their final departure.
yet i do so enjoy them...

ha, i used to talk them them when i was little... out there watering them after school...
and i especially find it difficult to cut the beautiful blossoms that i find on the plants i had planted that were small, sick, not worth anyone's time.
they do grow so beautifully....
today in band sir talked about how a certain three measures were a flower beginning to blossom... then the flower opens, and it's so beautiful... but if we take a breath before it opens... it dies. left on the floor. we put it in a box and take it home.
now what does that sound like.