The Ignorant Rose

A rose of different colour stood alone amidst the grasses on the farmer's land and in the night when moon and stars all shone she searched her soul deep down, inside the sand. She could not see that cattle, goats and sheep will walk around you on their daily rounds if you are different every soul will keep an eye on you, and that includes the hounds. And so she stood there, bored to tears and quite depressed refused to listen to those bits of conversation, ye Gods had thought that any rose would feel so blessed to have such colour, fragrance and configuration. One day, the rose was turning fifty-seven, a fatso Holstein wandered, mooing and nearby, it was the day that prickly rose did go to heaven the blessed end came from above, a bovine pie.