Yellow Flowers

You made me love yellow flowers in the middle of July, when everything was dying because the ground was so dry. You offered them to me with the faintest smile on your face, caressed the lemon petals as you put them on display. I looked at them quizzically, questioning there presence. You embraced me with laughter, said they’re my essence. You told me a short story of blossoms and blooms, and strength and survival, in the midst of gloom. And I fell in love with yellow flowers because of the story you shared, and I cherished their sunshine, and the meaning they bared. And then they were gone. Along with you and your stories and smile. No laughter or embrace. No petals or blooms, sunshine or lemons. The ground was dry and cracked and barren. And I was alone, with just a fading scent and drifting memories. You made me love yellow flowers, then you took them away. copyright 2017 rapsedeblu/'raps?de blü Just a writer who needs to write.