I know the joy of giving.
I know the smile that blooms afar.
I know the moment they drift away,
lost in a world of colour and wonder.
I wanted to feel what they feel,
when a flower reaches their hands.
That sudden warmth it carries,
that brief and beautiful pause.
I tried buying flowers for myself,
wrapped in classic paper and hope.
When the florist placed them in my hand,
they felt quietly borrowed.
The flowers seemed pale and unsure,
as if they needed another presence.
Missing the warmth of exchange,
buying for oneself feels unspoken