Stalks green and brown,

Long, short or peeping down,

Each with a shade of red in the face,

Emerging out of a clear vase,

Tall ones peering into the distant future,

Short ones are content with gently giving present a nurture,

Drooping petals weighed down by the thoughts,

Sleeping sepals, on organizer of sorts,

Jointly they sit on a conference table,

Separately, they give wings to the capable.