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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Passing by the wet market, seeing flowers— decided to buy some, to brighten the day, one of those inside-gloomy-days The sun was beating down, and even the roses were scorched but the lady selling them had a smile, since she knew that she was going to get a sale. The roses or those big mums? (I cannot remember what she called them exactly—started with an A) With the hot weather, I can imagine those roses lasting only a day So the big mums it is. I ask for some aster, and she adds them to the flowers…. I looked at those mums—white and yellow, yes, they sort of looked like big spiders They looked pale, sort of like me. So I asked the lady to please add those smaller, lavender mums for some splash of color… I really like it sometimes when people just suddenly start talking when they do something— it reveals that passion they have for it. I asked her name— Rose. How fitting indeed. The lady selling flowers is named Rose. I will now remember. She seemed happy she made a sale, too happy she gave me the wrong change… so I returned the extra money with a smile I got a smile for my change. Feeling lighter as I walked on, even with the bright afternoon sun bearing down on me… And then— Dryness, just feeling so dry within, it almost felt like the flowers that I held were withering in stop motion (just like some things in my life), I had to stop myself from checking whether they had turned brown already, all because of me… I felt so sapped. The struggle to lift myself up continues… Ah, Miss Rose, I shall buy flowers from you again, if only to get 312 seconds of lightness.
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