The Vulgar And The Beautiful

By the roadside I saw a blushing flower amongst arrogant, working class weed. It suffered greatly this delicate bloom which could inspire a poet to write about the richness of nature if only bloody weed would stop being so obtrusive. I picked the flower, rude, gray weed applauded in their world of harshness beauty was strength. And now that I have changed from being an angry old man to a gentle soul, I put the flower in a vase and saw it die of loneliness Next day I stopped my car at the same spot I ignored the blaring horns of angry drivers. And the weed said: “why did you this to us we need a soft soul amongst us even when we make fun of its boon, but we need the love it creates.