The flower

The flower

He was walking along the sad, gentle breeze in his hair.
Oblivious to the roaring sea, he was lost in thoughts
Thoughts that brought a tear to his eyes.
He scrambed to the main road, contemplating whether to kill himself.
Just then a beautiful tiny little flower caught his eye
Shaking in the wind, fragile, but still fresh and holding on
He gently touched the flower. They were her favorite.

It brought him joy, made him smile momentarily like her
He knew that like the flower, with her, he just had to move on
They had brought joy, but alas, were not his to be.

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