There laid an endless field of grass
where each strand was homogenous in every respect.

All were green,
and all were trimmed to two inches in length.

Among them spawned a flower.
It was neither green nor two inches long.

Rather red,
taller than the rest.

Rose was her name,
but here in this field she did not blossom.

When he who waters the meadow of grass balked at her kind
She did nothing but stand silently, lifting her pedals to the sky.

However, without warning, the grass rose in unison against her,
trodding over her lithe petals.

She was torn from her roots and expelled from the field of grass.
Why? one may ask.

Because she was a rose
would reply the grass.

Because she was a rose
would reply the grass.