Love Letters to Nature

Flower Lady

Flowers. Hundreds of them, maybe even dozens- He couldn't remember which one she said was the bigger unit.

It didn't matter anyway now, he thought silently, as he observed.

As he listened to the disbelief in their muted sobs, and watched as their devastated tears darkened the soft blue silk of her skirts. He felt for the warmth in the cold, stiff hand he grasped, and sniffed for her sweet, musky smell- the scent he had called home for so long.

He wasn't going to cry like he did the last time- she told him not to. That it would make her soul restless. She made him swear not to shed a single tear of sorrow for her. He missed her terribly; but if anything, he owed it to her.

And so he gazed at the flowers instead. He was sure he could name every single flower tucked under her idle arm, he thought, lifting his head with what little pride he could muster.

After all, it was she who taught him.

There were so many: Big, blooming peonies, and dainty little daisies; ivory lilies and blood-red roses; fresh jasmines and withering petunias. He named them all, his little lips mouthing them silently as he went along.

And of course, he saved the best for last. Only he knew her favourite, he thought triumphantly, as he stepped forward, gently lifting her left hand, and carefully placed his bunch at the centre of her lifeless chest, right on top of all the flowers they had deftly adorned her with moments ago.

He stood back, finally smiling genuinely for the first time since she had 'gone to a better place', whatever they meant by that.

The beautiful, blushing petals of the carnations had done their job.

Finally.

Finally, she looked perfect.

Finally, she looked peaceful: the flurry of petals tenderly stroking her chin, the ivy vines lovingly curled around her being, and now, the sun kissing her face with its rays.

And for a moment, he thought, she looked...

Alive.

Even if it was just for a split second, he thought he saw the blood rise to her blue lips, or heard a small sigh of relief, or felt her hand curl around the diverse bouquet.

It was gone as fast as his warm tears spilled, skimming his cheek momentarily, as though to hastily say goodbye before they dived into the wreath of blossoms.