The flowers have been plucked.
I’ve hidden them away within my dress.
I keep them close to my heart.
I fear they’ll blow away with the wind.
Each flower holds deep within it a memory.
Memories of you and us.
Memories that will stay with me.
I cannot hold them forever.
I know I’ll have to put them away soon.
Their thorns are beginning to hurt my fingers.
I have to let them go and return them to the wind.
- Quiet-Emerald