Autobiography Of A Rose Flower

  • Post category:Essay
  • Reading time:3 mins read
Autobiography Of A Rose Flower
Autobiography Of A Rose Flower

Autobiography Of A Rose Flower

While coming back from school I saw a beautiful red-colored rose flower lying outside a public dustbin. I could not resist myself and was about to pick it up. Suddenly I heard a voice. I was frightened and started looking around to see who is talking. Oh! It was that flower talking to me.

“Don’t get surprised” it said. “Just two days back I was swinging happily in that garden. I was enjoying life with the soft thorny branches along with my brothers and sisters. Today, a girl of your age came and snatched me from my mother’s lap. Then after some time, she saw a kite in the sky. She threw me away and ran to catch that kite. Since then I have been lying here. Nobody tried to pick me up. You are so kind that I thought of talking to you.

You know I am a rose the king of all flowers. I was born in a very beautiful garden. The whole world was acquainted with my appearance and fragrance. Honeybees were attracted by my fragrance. I gave my pollens to the wasps. I was showered with 1 dew Drop every morning. The soft wind wiped my face. I learned blooming in the sunlight. Do you know, our beauty is worth seeing especially in the spring season? I fill the atmosphere with my fragrance. Besides, I am also used to making some medicines and perfumes. Rosewater is used in beauty therapies. People like rose perfumes. My petals are used to make Gulkand.

But in spite of making your life so cheerful and energetic, people never care for us. Man is a very cruel creature. He never realizes our pain. You people just pluck us off and use us for your benefit. Children remove our petals. Do you know how painful it is? The same thing happened to me today. I never thought that my end will be so tragic.” The flower could not speak anymore.

I felt very bad and picked up the flower. I kept it in a clean flower vase on my study table. I did not throw it away even after it was dry. I then kept it neatly in one of my books. I decided that I would never pluck any flower from the garden.

Autobiography Of A Rose Flower

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