Who Wants To Be a Tulip
“This is how it has to be to suit the Spring Faerie queen,” Reginald, the Elf, told the garden.
“The daffodils are the majorettes. The lilacs must follow in eight days, and sixteen hours.”
“Sixteen hours from when they first push through the earth or sixteen hours from their first bloom?”
Reginald glared his full fierce Elf-glare toward Hollyhock. Why did she always make things difficult?
“What do you THINK?” he asked her, in a snotty way that only elves can do.
She drew her flowers back, as if she had been nymph-slapped.
“It is ALWAYS timed from the first bloom,” tulip whispered to Hollyhock.
“Tulip! Where is tulip?” Reginald asked, impatiently. Only one tulip, and she was nowhere to be found!
Tulip ran toward the line. “Here I am,” she said.
“It says in this program that you are the only tulip left, the last tulip,” Reginald said. “Where are the others?”
“The frost,” tulip replied. “It killed off my whole family. I had not bloomed yet, so it did not get me.”
Reginald looked sorely displeased. “Are there any volunteers that would like to be a tulip?” he asked the rest of us.
We all looked down.
Tulips don’t last long.
We looked down for a long time.
Of no help at all to Reginald,
But frankly, he was not the
Nicest elf-in-charge we
Had ever had.
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018
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