Prim Rose
Deep in the meadow, under the willow
On the grass, I shine in the evening fallow
I bloom in the morning's rise,
With every child's grace
Taking a glimpse of me, they dance with joy,
With their sleepy eyes, beckoning me to the Troy
The Troy of giving my charm of joy
To those who were dead, once in my meadow,
To those who sigh, thinking of the war lands shadow
I give them my charm, the charm of joy
For I am the Primrose, the joy of every meadow.
Tears fell from my eyes as I read the poem that Peeta had written about Prim, after her death. This, I realized, was the first time I had cried after the war, in front of Peeta. The war had surely scarred me, making me realize the meaning of life. But I am pretty sure that Prim, my sister, had realized it before me.
She did smile when she was about to reach her end, (I am not sure of that, but lets just say that it happened) though I am not sure why she did that. She was the best sister anyone could have. Tomorrow is the day dedicated for the people who died in the war, called the War Free Day, (I know it sounds lame, but put up with it) for which Peeta and I are going, only because he persuaded me to do so. I remember how he did that vividly:
I stood in the balcony of our house, overlooking the meadow. It was the house that Peeta and I built together. I was there thinking of the war, when I felt two strong-arms wrap around my waist. I leaned into Peeta and was immediately comforted.
' You have been baking. ' I told him. It was nothing but a mere observation. But I felt Peeta chuckle.
' And you have been thinking about the war. ' he told me. Again, it was a mere observation, but I knew that this was his way of telling me to do something that I would not like to do, but it would help me survive.
' Yes.' I told him. I felt him smile and then he whispered, ' Lets go to the War Free Day ceremony. '
I froze, not at all believing what he said. I turned in his arms to face him, and looked at him for any signs of amusement on his face, but all I saw was seriousness. ' No.' I told him willing my voice to be strong and not filled with tears at the thought of how the war was my fault, my fault that resulted in the death of nothing less than a few hundred thousand people. I was rewarded with a strong voice. How could I go to the ceremony? It was dedicated for the people who died in the war. I was alive, when I should have died, and not hundred thousand people. People would forever resent me all the more, if I went to the ceremony. I was about to go to the bedroom when Peeta caught my wrist and pulled me to him.
'Lets go, people will not think anything bad of us, the only thing they would think is the fact of how strong you are at the moment.' His words strengthened me, yet there was a huge part of my brain telling me not to go. I think he sensed my internal conflict since he said, ' Lets go, not for us alone, but also for Prim, Rue and everyone else who died. I will come with you.' Something inside me changed. At that moment all I could think of was how all those people lived and not how they died. The thought strengthened my resolve to go. I would go. I slowly and shakily nodded.
He smiled and kissed the top of my head.
This was the poem he wrote, since we were to talk of how each of how someone's death affected us. We chose Prim. She chose us, and for the rest of the day we did nothing.
We just lived.
