I still need to get her a present.
I'll stop at the florist on my way.
I know how much she loves flowers,
Especially on her birthday.

Three different types should suffice.
One daisy, as bright as the sun, for her personality.
One hydrangea, dark blue like the ocean waters, from our seaside cottage where we used to stay.
One rose, dark red like the setting sun, on the evening of our first kiss.

I head up a dirt road and through  a field of stones to meet her.

I leave the flowers on her grave, just like I do every year.