The Lonely Flower



Written on the 15/2/12, I wanted to write a cute story, not sure if I achieved this goal.

In a meadow on a lovely spring day a beautiful flower was growing, every spring the flower would grow in the same place. The flower watched the young deer’s come to the meadow to eat the long grass and play.

            Her only friend was Mrs. Bee and Miss. Butterfly. She always knew when spring was coming to an end because she always felt sleepy. Once again spring came, this time however something felt different, the doe’s and their babies were no where. Mrs. Bee came to land on her petals as normal.

            The flower smiled, she enjoyed the company, even though it was always a quick visit from Mrs. Bee. The flower was always on her own. She was the only flower in the whole meadow.

            But this spring was different; the flower woke from her slumber to find that a small cottage had been built. She watched an old lady sitting in a chair holding a small child. The animals of the woods would watch the old lady and the baby with great interest.

            Spring brought a new surprise. The baby grew up. She would play with the animals in the meadow, with another spring came another change, the baby grew into a young girl.

            Several springs came and went the animals that played with the young child had grown up. It was time once more for the flower to wake from her slumber. The flower was surprised to wake to find the little girl looking at her, the flower was glad to see she was back, the flower didn’t notice at first that it wasn’t the child that she remembered, when the child was called that’s when the flower seen that the baby had grown to be an adult.

The animals returned to the cottage to watch the little girl grow. It was time for the flower to slumber once more, come spring the flower woke to find that she wasn’t alone, she had been moved closer to the cottage and that there were other flowers waking from their long slumber, there was so many different colors, she could still see everything going on in the meadow, but now she had other flowers that would watch over the meadow and return each spring with her.


T. Bennet

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