Lavender.

Sweet scent fills the gentle breeze, as I potter about tending to my garden.

Small

creatures.


Hundreds.

Building a home in the pot with the pastel pillars, in the blaze of the midday sun.

Your home will destroy it - the lavender.

But do I have the right to lay the white, dusty poison, and take your life?

Do I have the right to choose one being over another, for the sake of beauty?

I don't

think

I do.

© Amelia Tuson