A flower was offered to me, Such a flower as May never bore; But I said "I've a pretty rose tree," And I passed the sweet flower o'er.
Then I went to my pretty rose tree, To tend her by day and by night; But my rose turned away with jealousy, And her thorns were my only delight.
William Blake
The rose withered and got preserved beautifully, and now serves as a decoration. Since the sky is covered in clouds thus creating really mild white light, I wanted to create this photograph.