a little boy loves flowers, they smell so sweet, the view is colourful, unless he’s with his father.
a walk with his father, includes hating the way the leaves are so crunchy, bringing too much attention to the little boy who’s eyes linger on the blooming daisies.
his mother secretly brings him flowers, hiding them in jars in the late night hours.
she loves to sing, hold his hand, kiss his cheeks bringing all the attention right to him.
the little boy loves his mother’s affection, he wishes his mother wasn’t trapped under a stone in the cemetery,
he wishes the petals in the jars wouldn’t crumple and rot,
he wishes his mother could sing to him again, so he wouldn’t have to be alone drowning out his father’s cruel interrogations.