The Littlest Primrose

The dainty Primrose traveled a very long way to a small house, and then downstairs to a dark room.  The journey wore the little Primrose out, and once she felt her pot settle itself onto a snug little shelf, she immediately fell into a deep sleep.  The next morning, she awoke to the sound of voices.  Lots of voices coming from all around her. 

“What could it possibly be?” she wondered, for in the dark she had imagined that she was quite alone.  The voices continued, and she realized that they spoke of her. 

“Who is this intruder? When did she arrive? Surely, our lady did not bring a new plant without awakening us,” said a gruff voice.

“Why do you suppose our lady would have told us, old man?” replied a second voice. 

The little Primrose closed her eyes and pretended she wasn’t there, but it didn’t keep the voices from talking about her.  She couldn’t imagine why anyone would ever be bothered by her.  Judging from the voices, the other flowers had to be older and wiser than she. 

Suddenly, the voices stopped.  The little Primrose took the liberty of opening one of her eyes.  All of the other plants stared at her. 

“Oh!  You startled me,” she said. “Why are you all staring at a little Primrose like me?  I’m nothing special. Do you mind that I am here?  The lady placed me here on this shelf, but if I wiggle just right, I’m sure I could fall off the edge.  If you mind me… that much.”

The plants continued staring at her. 

Finally, the gruff voice, which belonged to the oldest African Violet the little Primrose had ever seen, said, “Don’t bother yourself about us.  If the lady put you there, there’s where  you belong.” 

“Besides,” said one of the younger African Violets with the pink and white flowers, “look at the pretty red pot the lady put you in.  She must think you a wonderful little flower.  If she thinks that, so do we.”

At that, the little Primrose looked down and noticed for the first time the bright red pot she had settled her roots into the evening before.  “Oh my, what a lovely shade of red.  It does match my blooms just so.  I do believe I will be happy here.” 

Then the little shelf of plants grew great and beautiful under the care of their lady, and they lived out all their days happily with nary a bad word ever said.

The end.