I found flowers strewn across my path and pinned under my car’s wipers every day for a season. A mystery! You finally confessed, handing me a posy of peonies plucked from Mrs Gray’s bushes. A single white carnation decorated your buttonhole as we said our vows. You planted sunflowers and daffodils in our yard to delight our children. On the day of my diagnosis, your irises still bloomed, hopefully. My hospital room overflowed with bouquets delivered daily with kisses until, eventually, our garden was bare. Now you cry snowdrop tears and place a wreath of store-bought chrysanthemums on my casket.
6/1/2023 07:52:41 am
Robert P. Bishop
8/1/2023 02:50:05 am
Cool story, Fiona. Enjoyed it. Brings to mind the song...Where Have All the Flowers Gone, and the old saying...I'd rather have one flower while I'm alive than a truckload when I'm dead.
8/1/2023 05:35:14 am
You can always say it with flowers.
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