mourning the weeds
It’s fine. It’s for the best.
“Are you sure?”
Yeah, it’s fine. It wasn’t safe to let those weeds grow.
“But they were so pretty, all wild and free.”
Yeah, they were. But they were suffocating the flowers behind them.
“Flowers? What flowers? All I see is a dying plant.”
It grew flowers once. Back when the weeds weren’t so tall. They were pretty together.
“So why get rid of the weeds then?”
They were fine when they were small. But once they got big, they became an issue.
“Thorny ones, huh?”
Yeah, it didn’t matter when the thorns were so low down. But once they were tall, they cut me whenever I went to pick the flowers.
“What makes you think that bush will bloom again?”
I think it will. One day. But I don’t know. I might have let the weeds cover it for too long. It wasn’t getting any sunlight.
“But the weeds will grow back. You’ll have to keep cutting them over and over.”
I know.
“It would be easier just to let the weeds grow back. Prettier too. It’s kinda ugly as it is right now.”
…
But then I wouldn’t be giving the flowers a chance to bloom.
“Your loss then.”
Yeah.
My loss.
