The Aspiration

The Aspiration The rose by the wayside was picked by a man of self-standing, and it turned modestly blue, alas the day wore on and the man threw the flower off ifs lapel and for the simple reason it was not as innocent as picked this morning. Someone green left wing saw the flowers and planted it in his poet of natural fertilisers. The flower grew and bloomed pink not being sure where to belong I had only seen one lie that before and that was in the black forest. The plant was put up for sale as it had three colours by those who had saved it and the longing for an upper-class life? Expensive few could buy it but the man who had thrown it away did and the flower was glad to be upper class,