He looked at the flowers lying about in disorder.
"What waste!" he said to himself.
Those roses had adorned the pulpit at a wedding an
hour before. Now, all was over, and they were waiting
to be discarded.
The attendant, leaning on his sweeper, was lost
in thought, when he suddenly heard a strange sound.
One of the roses replied to him.
"Do you call this a waste?" the flower protested.
"What is life anyway, yours or mine,
but a means of service?
My mission was to create some fragrance and beauty,
and when I have fulfilled it,
my life has not been wasted."
~ ~ ~
"And what greater privilege is there
than to adorn a bride's way to her beloved,
what greater privilege than to help glorify the moment
when a bride and groom seal their faith in each other
by entering the covenant of marriage?"
Our little flower paused for a moment
to watch the man's face,
and then continued her discourse.
"Roses are like people.
They live in deeds, not in time.
My glory was but for a brief hour,
but you should have seen the joy in the bride's eye."
~ ~ ~
"I like to believe that I had something to do with it,
by creating a suitable setting
for the moment of her supreme happiness.
So, don't grieve for me.
My life has been worthwhile."
Having spoken her little piece,
the rose was once more silent.
~ ~ ~
The attendant, startled from his reverie,
and a little wiser,
pushed the sweeper again and continued
with his work.
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