The Flower on the Lamppost

The Weight of Separation

"It's nice to have you visit the town again" came the familiar voice of a man.
The beautiful sound of soulful laughter rising from mirthful company was certainly a pleasant tune to wake up to.

Twilight had spread its wings across the sky, cooling all those beneath its magnificence. That was all! A day had just passed during the hours of her rest.

The blossom looked down to see a happy lady cooing peels of giggles, a dainty hand over her lips, blushing cheeks and a very juvenile aura about her. Curly caramel locks had escaped the siege of a large and complicated updo, falling softly around her rosy face.

Her empire-waisted blouse of velvet withdrew into a broad ribbon tied into a bow at the back, lined with elaborately fashioned trims and a passementerie of braids bejewelled with gleaming beads. Over her large tummy was a fine apron woven to an array of detailed perfection, beneath which her long skirt in folds and ruffles cascaded down where the hem thereof, laced with satin frills of intricate make, danced around her ankles, waltzed by the breeze.

Large, puffed sleeves, that flaunted talented craftsmanship, subsided elegantly to embrace the slender size of her arm finishing under the lace of her simple gloves. She held the little hand of a small child who stood between the older lady and another man much taller than the two with a grand air of authority about him like he was of royal blood, his vest fine and regal, slender gold chains fastened across his suit in a rich array. Exquisite clothes adorned the couple and the child they had in tow, who was most distracted watching the quaint environment he was in, whilst the adults conversed serenely with the humble man of the café.

"We expect a girl", the sprightly lady said tapping her stomach, the little family beaming proud. "Soon after adopting our little Aaron", the man added, as he smiled at his wife, the little boy perking up to the mention of his name. The accent of their language was different from those that walked the place like they were accustomed to another, but sincere.

They talked some more, growing increasingly inaudible, and laughed together, till the blond man running the café called for someone indoors and held the door for the little pups to scammer out, excitement vivid in their yelps of joy. The eyes of the little boy looked ignited as he picked one of them up in his little arms.

After some merry talk, where the child and the pets entertained each other, the family departed, giving waves of goodbye to the man at the tea-place. The cubs ran after them, following like these were the new people they belonged to. Something about this delightful story of the tiny animals finding a home and a family came with a heavy feeling of longing.

They were going to be missed desperately for the cheer that they sparked every day they spent in this neighbourhood. The flower gazed as long as she could see till the shapes of the little things faded into the distance and their wordless voices rang no more.

If she had tears, she would shed them; if she had a voice, she would call out to them; but was that being selfish? To want to hold them back from the beautiful life that waited ahead? Or was that a bond of affection that has sown these thoughts in her?

She looked to see the fair-haired man (that had taken them in when they were destitute) standing still, resting a shoulder against the wall of his place, arms crossed over his chest. Half a smile stayed at the side of his mouth while pools of emotion gathered, but refused to fall down the side of his glazed eyes. Why did Separation have to bring with it such clouds of longing and heaviness?

He stood there longer that he should've, simply gazing like the puppies were still there, or like they would come back to him, but that was not how things were written to be played out. The embers in his eyes betrayed him when he refused to show his heartache, but he nonchalantly pushed his weight off the wall whereupon he'd rested and turned to go back to his business, sweeping these feelings away like the passing breeze before he watched where he stepped –for a moment, like he was careful that the fall of his footstep might've been interrupted by the cupcake-sized pups that were there no more. Of course, he missed them dearly after spending these past few days with the happy chirps they offered, although he could not have afforded to raise them.