The bush bent under a burden of flowers The violet, with its yellow center, rose newborn out of the dead year''s leaves. There was a feast of flowers, God's own eggs served sunny-side up. The field bristled with flowers. There was a bed of flowers, and I lay in it and dreamed. A lotus rising out of mud. A proud rose rising above a secret shame of thorns.

No, I just need to write a composition about flowers.

What have you heard? Give an example of what you don't want to hear. "The petels unfurled slowly toward the breaking dawn"