Flower Peddles

The flower peddles fell from the orchid you picked from a stranger's yard.
It's purple tendrils first shriveled,
an introverted young boy denied emotional entanglement.
Then they disconnected completely,
locking itself into isolation,
to be found disregarded and damaged in the window sill.
Disheveled, drowning, and browning.
Nobody witnessed their graceful descent from brilliant to decrepit.

And I thought this flower lucky at first,
for it alone was chosen among the multitudes.
But now i see our fragility.
The world is harsh to those who stand alone.