Kneeling in the grass
he sits back on his feet
and surveys his garden
the sun glinting
off his blonde hair
he plucks and pulls out
all the weeds and grass
and the things
that shouldn't be there
throwing them in a pile

He gazes slowly along
the tiny blooms
of beautiful dark colors
burgundy alyssum
sapphire blue cornflower
deep red nasturtium
his dark, exotic beauties
and his eyes stop abruptly
on a big, white flower
wondering how she got there

Scratching his head, he thinks
seeds must have been dropped
by a bird or a chipmunk
running through his
little patch of perfection
he yanks her out
like the weeds and grass
and the things
that shouldn't be there
throwing her in the pile

He grabs a handful of dirt
and jams it into
the hole she left behind
carefully arranging the soil
so there is no trace left
of where she grew

He picks up the pile
of living refuse
and tosses it into
a large, dark plastic trash can
locking the top
and dragging it to the curb

Whistling, he saunters
back to the house
his little blossoms
dancing in the gentle breeze
with their sultry upturned faces
beautiful in the warm summer sun

She is slowly wilting
in this hot, enclosed coffin
the brilliant white of her petals
turning brown along the edges
and she wonders
why she belongs here in this place
filled with weeds and grass
and the things
that shouldn't be there

She saw the pleasure in his face
as he looked over the others
and was confused that the look
disappeared when his eyes
came to rest on her
felt the pain of being ripped apart
and thrown away worthless
her last thought was

"I thought white was beautiful."