Nov 2013
Don’t say sorry.
I reach down to the grass and snap off the stem of a daisy.
The sweet tang of it seeps into the air.
I give it to him.
“See, can you understand now? I cannot sew this.. daisy back. I simply can’t. I cannot put it back together or let it wander into its niche; its sun dappled world.”
Unforgiving silence fills in the blanks of all the words we wish to say.
I step closer to him.
“But you know what, when Spring comes in 365 days, after 525600 minutes of rain, grey skies, ice, hail, sun, blue skies and clouds, it will come back alive."
I reach down to the grass and snap off the stem of a daisy.
The sweet tang of it seeps into the air.
I give it to him.
“See, can you understand now? I cannot sew this.. daisy back. I simply can’t. I cannot put it back together or let it wander into its niche; its sun dappled world.”
Unforgiving silence fills in the blanks of all the words we wish to say.
I step closer to him.
“But you know what, when Spring comes in 365 days, after 525600 minutes of rain, grey skies, ice, hail, sun, blue skies and clouds, it will come back alive."
