Flower

If I were a flower I would soak up the sunshine without wasting a thought for all the pain in the world.

Who knows where I would be?

Perhaps all alone in the prettiest meadow or deep in a forest somewhere.

Perhaps arranged with other beauties in a comfortable vase,

sitting on the table in the middle of a small dinner party,

listening to stories and laughter.

I could be one in a bunch of red roses,

clutched in the hand of some boy on his way to make his sweetheart happy.

Maybe weaved into a crown and set on the bride's head as she lightly walks over the violet petals down the aisle towards her true love.

Or I could be the blossoming branches framing the arch over the path to the front door of a lakeside cabin,

or the daisies all around the little white cottage that makes it so special to the old couple living inside.

I wouldn't be apposed to being a large protea,

sitting on a dresser next to framed photographs of smiling faces,

growing old with the memories but remaining just as beautiful.

Plucked from the vine--I do see my destiny now.

Gathered with my fellow innocents of many a kind and colour to be laid down before a gravestone.

I am a piece of tradition, soon to be forgotten, wilted and replaced by those who share my beauty as a gift to the dearly departed.

I felt their sorrow the first time as they laid their loved one to rest.

Only one returns with any frequency to offer up prayers and refresh the bouquet.

If I were a flower, I would stand patiently wherever it was I came to stand, drink in the moisture however it came to my roots.

If I were a flower it seems all I would have to do is grow, be beautiful

…and wait.