Flowers

There were two dozen of us in that bouquet, there were. That's right, 24 red roses, all done up in frilly white material, tied with red ribbon. And we were to be presented, with aplomb, to the young man's beloved girlfriend in a couple of hours, when he took her on their Valentine's Day Date.

Oh yes, love was in the air, certainly. And I had my petals all a flutter for the handsome crimson rose just in front of me to my right. He was just the correct shade of crimson, he was, unlike the glaring scarlet one next to him. And by all the vibes I was getting, he had his pollen in pursuit of me.

Ah, how we longed to be given to the girl and put in a vase of water. Because you see, then the ribbon would be untied and we'd be free to flop where we liked, and we'd flop on each other and sort of edge away from the others. That's impossible when there's ribbon to contend with. We dreamed, he and I of the time when the girl's delicate fingers would unknot the ribbon so that we could tie our own imaginary knot. His pollen, my petals. Bliss.

What was that? Giggling? Who was giggling?

Uh-oh, is this trouble? His younger sister and brother, ten year old twins, were in the room.

"It'll serve him right," little sister was saying.

"Yeah, he's mean. Why can't we ride with him? He can drop us off before he gets to his dumb date."

"Let's do it."

I felt not-so-delicate girl fingers grasp us. Any of the two dozen who felt that touch shuddered. This was a pre-teen human up to no good. Any flower knows that touch.

When she began undoing the ribbon, that little sister, I realised what was going on. She was going to take the bouquet apart. She was going to separate my petals from his pollen! It was time to speak!

" I didn't wanna leave you," I screamed, at the moment we were parted.

I was in the boy's hands now, and he was clearly in the girl's.

"Let's get rid of this," the boy said, and before his twin sister could stop him, he had thrown the ribbon into the fire. Though I had longed to be rid of it, my heart sort of broke as I watched. Watched it burn to nothingness. Its disappearance hadn't led to romance, it had led to splitting up.

The twins were play-acting a Valentine's date, spoofing what they imagined big brother would do. Each went down on one knee, in turn, and handed some of us to the other. The boy pushed me so hard into his twin sister's hand that my thorns sank deep and her hand began to bleed.

"If you are going to be rough, I won't play."

"You have to. This is the part where we get all gooey. You are kidding if you think I can hold my own hand."

Well, don't hold so tight, it hurts where that thorn cut me. Let's put these dumb flowers away."

"Let's throw them."

Then - joy of joys - I was thrown down with a couple of others - and he was thrown right on top of me! What's more, things were nice and cozy in the wastebasket because the twins had been doing an art project earlier in the day and there was a lot of crumpled paper and some pencil shavings to lie on.

So there was a pollen-petal ending after all.

Oh, the twins? Yes, they had the sense to go over to Aunt Hilda's house before big brother could enter the room and discover his missing roses.

Big brother's date? Went really well. Especially because his girlfriend happened to be allergic to roses, (how had he not known that?) and was therefore pleased he hadn't brought her any.