Thumbelina

The floral smell was overpowering, a stark contrast to the previous week when a single dried rose hung from your terrace. Now, the balcony was alive with blooming flowers. In the midst of it all, Thumbelina snoozed on the big garden scissor. The dress you had stitched up for her, was frayed. "Roses. Must trim the roses," she mumbled in her sleep.