Poor Little Posey

I stopped to look at some flowers today.
 
A simple act, to be certain.  
 
I bent down,  
with great trepidation of not getting back up,  
to smell their scent.  
 
The fragrances were heady and aromatic. Refreshing and pure.  
 
The feel of the petals were luscious and smooth, soft and comforting.  
 
I found myself comparing them to my favorite velvet blanket. The one I use only for decoration.  
 
The same variety of flower in the next bed had been overwatered causing them to wilt and droop over.  
 
They appeared lifeless and spent. Yet the color and perfume, while still prevalent, didn’t provide the same allure and I semi-quickly pivoted to another bed of more vibrant posies.  
 
So many lovely varietals and hybrids I’d never before seen. Bursting in bloom and beauty.  
 
Cautiously rising, I turned back to the wilted flowers, as it occurred to me they looked as I felt.  
 
Bedraggled and passed-by.  
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So I bought them!