Flowers for the Second

Forget-me-not – Memories

Your hands clutched the letters to your chest, rereading every one of them.

The paper was old and yellowed, the ink dried and fading.

These were the letters your father had sent to your mother that you found in a single locked handmade box.

Your mother gave you the key.

The final letter from your father to your mother had your name written on its pages.

The ink had not dried.
The paper was still new.

This was the letter your father had written before he died.

The final page had your mother’s handwriting.
Prim and proper and beautiful like she was before.

To you, my son.
My only wish for you is to find a woman who you will spend your life with.
To find someone you will love for the rest of your life.
Someone who will love you even with your faults.

All we wish for is you to be happy and love someone as much as we loved each other.

Under those letters laid twin rings, words that you would understand years later etched into the golden bands.

These were their rings, left behind to be passed on for generations to come.

These were their rings, left behind for you to remember them.

Your mother’s favourite flower was always the forget-me-not.
Hawthorn- Hope

The garden was a magical place, even more so in the moonlight.

You would spend your days there, walking the grounds that your parents walked on.

You would spend your nights there, exploring the terrain that no one but your parents walked on, retracing their steps.

The forest was a labyrinth, the one that your father had gotten lost in.

The one where your mother found him.

These paths were the ones your parents walked.

These were the paths that brought them together.

You couldn’t help but hope that these paths would do the same for you.

You couldn’t help but hope that you would find someone to call the garden “Ours” together with you.

Almond Blossom- Contemplation.

“Will you still love me, in spite of my defects?
I am blind, I am imperfect.
Will you still love me despite all that?”

She stared into the open skies, dyed with a jet black colour from her perspective.

“I don’t understand.
You, who is perfect.
You, who has no defects, love me.
Of all people.
A blind girl.
Why me?”

Your reply stayed the same.

“Because you are perfect the way you are.
No matter what, I will still love you.”

Her hand was in yours, the rings wrapped around you finger.

These were rings of promise.

These were promises of unconditional love.
Purple Hyacinth- Fogiveness | Gillyflower- Lasting Beauty
You are standing in the garden, by her side.

Everything seemed to come alive that night.

The moon’s glow seemed brighter than it was before and the flowers flourished under its light

‘Oh, look around love! The flowers have bloomed tonight.
Its beautiful.
Just like you!’

She takes your hand.

How long had it been?

You sat with your back against the cypress tree that you parents had planted so many years ago.

Your hand rested against the stone, by her side.

The garden was still so beautiful, even after so many years.

The periwinkles glowed amongst the pink and white roses that you had planted when you two were younger.

Oh, how you wished you could turn back time.

You held the primrose in your hand, the golden band still shining despite its age.

I miss you.


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