The Vase

The vase looked so inviting,
To the two buttercups,
Lying thirsty on the wooden table,
Their green stems cut,

“I can’t take it anymore,”
Said one to the other,
“I’ve got to climb up there,
And have a drink of water,”

“You can’t”, replied his friend,
“The lady might see,
Besides our roots are gone,
We have no feet,”

“I knew”, the other said,
“That this would happen one day,
That she’d get clipper happy,
And want to put us on display,”

“Stop complaining”, said the other,
“It’s an honor to be picked’
To brighten up someone’s day,
Or the room we’re set in,”

“I’m just saying it would be nice sometimes,
For them to admire us from afar,
I liked my little garden,
Beneath the sun and stars”,

“I see what you’re saying,
It makes perfect sense,
I liked my little bed,
Out by the fence,”

“But it’s nice, the thought,
Of making someone smile”,
“I guess you’re right”, replied the other,
“It’ll all be worthwhile”,

“But where did she go?
I still need water very much,
It’s torture to lay here looking up,
At an oasis we can’t touch”,

So the flowers wait and wait,
As their thirst burns,
Perhaps they’ve been forgotten,
Then they hear her return,

She’s humming a little tune,
All in a good mood,
But the buttercups are starving,
They have started to brood.

Finally the time has come,
She gently picks them up,
Places them in the vase,
And they soak the liquid up,

The one buttercup fights the urge,
To say ooh and ahh,
Not wanting the lady to hear,
Because flowers aren’t suppose to talk,

But his friend is a little irked,
At how she kept them along,
And so he asked loudly,
“What took you so long?!”

The lady stopped and stared,
And most assuredly did faint,
Then the other flower smiled,
“At least we’re in the vase”.