She sat among the fallen members of the community on branches, doing her best not to sit on any of the broken souls. She gently flat into the cold grass and looked up at the fluffy white clouds of happy flowers, still living, and smiling at the sun. Oh how beautiful the ones at the top must be, she would say to herself, knowing she would never get to the sun covered top of the tree. That is when something turned in her head. She sat up and picked up one of the grounded blooms and stood up, and on her tippy toes plucked a living bloom off of its nice cozy branch. She held them close together and examined them. They are both the same. They smile the same, they are the same colour and they are the same size, one was just ready to leave home sooner.
We are different, but we are all the same.
Prompted by @Writingprompt