Flower

Sunlit petals stretch upward, a beaming yellow apex on a thin green stem. The flower leans top-heavy over the worn garden path, reaching out as far as it can in the hope of being noticed. A pair of steps draw near.

Hand-in-hand, two lovers approach. Their murmured voices, too soft to make out, carry on the wind. She smiles. He grins. Sweet kisses abound in the dappled afternoon light. A warm glow surrounds them, brightening all that they touch, and magic follows in their wake. Lovers wander the garden together often, but rarely a pair so intertwined. What a blessing it would be, the flower considers, to be a token of a love like that. The dream of every flower in every garden, to have a life cut short in service of that which was the greatest gift bestowed by God upon the Earth.

The steps draw nearer still. The dandelion throws itself into the space above the soft grass and waves with all its might. Its brilliant petals, all arranged on a space no larger than a penny, vie for attention against a backdrop of more carefully cultivated blooms. Growing wild gives the perfect advantage of being nearer to the path, and nearer to the sight of passerby, but bears the wounds of being small and indelicate. Few, if any, ever pause to see it. Against all odds, the flower hopes.

The steps halt. His hand reaches out to the side of the path, as so many hands have done before. The whole of the garden holds its breath in anticipation. He picks a rose from the bush behind the flower, and presents it to her. She smiles, blushing prettily, and brings the sweetly-scented blossom to her face.

Recapturing each other’s hands, they continue their walk. The steps draw further away.

The yellow flower hangs its head, and bobs in the breeze.