The point of view from a yellow flower

My assignment was to write from a point of view from an item outside, i chose the last yellow flower.

I had always asked why in the world they decided to take the seed, known as my mother and plant her in a school yard.  I mean yes she sprouted beautiful babies such as myself of coarse. My short yellow peddles had just formed. I was small once didn’t take many months for me to actually grow and be myself. My sisters eventually were picked. Kids thought it would be funny to pick us and let us dry out and dye like my friendly leaves I see falling during the fall. I don’t like it here I’ve been alone for a while they picked everyone else except me.

 Like I have something wrong with me. Like I get I was a late bloomer but I’m still cute right. I still have green on me because I recently sprouted my mother still tells me I’m different. Just because I lose everyone doesn’t mean I should think any less of myself. A human named Grace came and picked me today. 

I didn’t understand why but the way she looked at me I liked it. I had meaning for once. Not that I wanted to die or anything. But I actually felt wanted for once. Poor mama I wonder how she’s doing by herself. Soon enough around next year her new babies with sprout. And I will just be dried peddles probably in the trash. 

Reviews

[Jacob Clifford]

This is an interesting story. I like idea and choice of perspective. Thanks for submitting.