Roses

"Mother, why do the best people die?" I asked my mother for the answer. I looked at father's image. A strong, handsome, looking guy I've ever seen before. I sniffled, knowing that my father had died in the army for us.

"When you go out to the garden to pick flowers, which ones do you pick?" She asked so softly. She bends down and I touch her beautiful, silk, blonde hair.

"The most beautiful ones." I answered as we walked through mother's flower beds. White roses, pink roses, even red rose there. I looked at the rose that was dying in the background.

"And why do the unlikeable roses are dying? Is it because no one cares for them or simply shut out the world?" I asked my mom a serious question. I turned around to see my mother to see a bunch of petals fallen on the ground. And that's when I waked up.

"It was just dream!"

I'd like to thank @Violet_Vision for giving this idea through my mind.

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