The Late Bloomer

The tulip reared its small, misshapen head. 

It was spring time, and the green stalks were giving way to petals. Beautiful petals full of maroon, purple and striking yellow. The other flowers were standing taller, attracting insects which would pollinate it and ensure that it's offspring grew and passed on their genetic code. 

But this tulip was not sharing in the celebration. 

While others were sprouting colors, this one was not. Was something wrong with him? Why is this happening. It's not fair. The tulip wondered if this was similar with other living things. Did the biggest brutes pick on and intimidate the smaller and weak for being, well, smaller and weak? If so, what an unfair world. 

Tis the way of things. Some colors bloom too soon, some late and some not at all. The tulip was reminded of a poem called 'Nothing Gold Can Stay' by Robert Frost. In this, 'Gold' refers to as the best things in life like our youth but youth, like time, fades with age. What was once young and virile becomes wilted, soft and aged like a has-been. 

Then time passed. 

As his brothers and sisters around him enjoyed the rigors of their beauty, it so quickly faded. And faded it did. As they did, he came into a wondrous explosion of color while leaflets and petals from his friends fell to the ground dead. 

In a sea of dreariness, he was now the lone color in a infinitesimal vista of drab. They all looked up to him now. When nothing gold can stay, it also gives rise to the 'late bloomers'.